Trigger
by Shannedo
Summary: Arthur starts at Bricksdale Road High School, seeking adventure and danger. He gets more than he bargains for when he falls for the charming Nathan Eames and is plunged into his world of drugs, gangs and violence. It soon becomes clear why Nathan lives every day like it might be his last. He's teetering on a knife edge, it may very well be. Sequel to Relapse. Find warnings inside.
1. Real World

**Story Warnings  
**Substance abuse (underage drinking and one of the main characters is a drug lord. Drug abuse mentioned) , strong violence, strong language, scenes of a sexual nature and the main pairing is slash. I'm not sure if this will remain as a T, I may later rate it M.

**Real World**

_We're living in a den of thieves,  
Rummaging for answers in the pages,  
We're living in a den of thieves,  
And it's contagious,  
_Regina Spektor, 'Us'

This part of the city was unlike anything Arthur had ever seen. As a small town New Jersey boy who's parents religiously protected their sons from harm, the closest he had ever come to life in rough city districts was driving through one in a cab on his way to the clean cut streets of Manhattan. He'd frequented in two places over the duration of his childhood, his home town and Wall Street, his parents frequenting there to sell shares of their billion dollar corporation. That was all.

So to see the run down areas he'd only ever viewed on TV or in movies, it was shocking. The buildings were cinder block and grey, not glass and spectacular. The atmosphere was depressing and quiet, not loud and claustrophobic. What was it the shopkeeper had said that morning when he went out to get milk for breakfast? "So, you're one of the famous Emersons, are you? Take a good, long look, this is the real world."

They were already a spectacle in the area. The local papers were plastered with the tale of how his parents had been given the chance to work with the best and brightest of the industry in England and they'd gratefully accepted, buying a low key flat in a run down city district to attempt to revert back to their roots. Not really, though. They'd both studied in London, but in no way did they belong here.

But Arthur had assumed he would fit in just fine. As long as he kept his name and attitude on the down low, he thought he may well blend in. He'd even traded in his Armani winter collection wardrobe for jeans and t-shirts.

He wasn't sure why his parents picked this area of London to move to, their university had been in a very lush part of the city. This place was so different to their past residences. But he was glad they did. He could taste adventure in the air of the dilapidated area and he was desperate to rid himself of his boring sheltered life.

So when Arthur and John were dropped off at Bricksdale High School that morning, the sun peeking through the grey clouds, they realised that they had gotten exactly what they had bargained for.

It was other worldly compared to their old private school, full of stuck up snobs whose parents paid tens of thousands of dollars every year for their kids to have their heads pumped full of self-righteousness. Bricksdale High resembled a prison. And that was no exaggeration.

As Arthur trotted down the steps that led to the entrance, John at his heels, he gazed up at the intimidating building in wonder. This was what he'd wanted his entire life, a sense of normality. His new white shirt was coarse to the touch, rolled up to his elbows, blue and gold tie tied loosely around his neck. A black zip hoody was in his bag which hung from his lean frame, it's straps pulled right down so that the bag brushed against his backside. A pair of black trousers and worn sneakers later and Arthur was grateful to see he blended in perfectly.

The brothers stopped in reception, John leaning languidly against the vacant front desk. "Excited?" he asked his younger brother, a reassuring smile pulled painfully across his lips.

Arthur grinned and nodded. This was perfect for him, exactly what he needed, even if John still wasn't sure. The secretary appeared around the corner and hurried back to her desk, pulling a heavy folder from a shelf that lined the far wall of her cubicle. "What can I do for you?" she asked timidly, clearly intimidated by the tall young men who frighteningly looked like they'd already spent months in the area. It made Arthur worry that they scared her. Was she easy to scare? Or just knew when to look scared?

"I'm John Emerson and this is my little brother Arthur. We're starting today," John replied with an easy smile, doing his best to set the edgy woman at ease. He applied his charming accent to the words, hoping to warm her to them.

"Ah, the Americans!" she squeaked, opening the folder and flipping through a few pages of information. "Well, welcome to Bricksdale. We will do our best to give you the warmest of receptions and if you have any questions, please do not hesitate in asking our prefects," she prattled off, like she'd been trained to speak the words to any newcomers.

Arthur nodded, his head jerking round at the sound of the front door opening. A petite girl in a black blazer with a golden hem stepped through it, closing it gently behind her. She was pretty enough, round face, olive skin, charcoal black hair. Her red badge stated her to be a senior prefect. "Rosie, you wouldn't mind showing the new boys around, would you?" the secretary asked.

Rosie gave a small nod, pulling her blazer tighter around her. "I'm Rosie Hopkins," she introduced herself.

"Arthur."

"John."

She nodded in acknowledgement to the brothers, not seeming the slightest bit startled by their accents. "Follow me, I'll show you around."

Rosie led the way through the winding corridors of the high school. Arthur took in every piece of graffiti, every bit of litter as he walked, a slow smile spreading across his lips. Everything he wanted and so desperately needed to fill the empty void that was his life had been crammed into one building. He couldn't be more excited.

The desks were worn and aged, the walls peppered with scribbles, holes and other oddities. The textbooks looked like they dated back to the nineties and the computers looked even older. "It's not much," Rosie murmured as she ended their tour in the small music department.

Arthur took in the battered guitars and chipped drumsticks, numerous orchestra instruments stacked in boxes on the shelves. "It's awesome," he replied with a grin, hearing John chuckle beside him.

Rosie blushed and giggled. "Want to go to the quad? That's where we all go in the morning."

The brothers nodded and allowed themselves to be led outside to a cinderblock and slab courtyard, set at the very heart of the school. Rosie trotted on ever carefully, her fervent eyes making Arthur confused. They stopped in the shadow of an awning, Rosie gesturing to them to come close. "I'm guessing you know how cliques work, right?"

John grinned. "Yeah. Jocks, preps, cheerleaders, band geeks-"

"Sure, sure. Except, we're not in California. What you need to know about Bricksdale is that it doesn't matter which table you sit at at lunch, it matters who you're seen backing," Rosie explained hurriedly, like she wanted them to be informed before someone arrived.

Arthur's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

Rosie bit her lip for a second, trying to come up with a simple explanation. "There are two gangs at Bricksdale. The CRB and, as the much more dominant group, Eames' gang. CRB stands for Camden Row Boys, Camden Row is the nearest high school and every one of their big leaders has been expelled from there. Beware of Anthony Legates, the guy is vicious. But Legates and his bullies are _nothing _compared to Eames' gang. That's them, now," she spoke hurriedly, pointing to a pair of double doors as a group of about ten burly young men entered the quad, each dressed in darkly coloured hoodies and jeans.

Arthur's eyes went wide at the sight of them, massive, muscular and intimidating. And they were just the ringleaders, Arthur could spot tens of similarly dressed guys and girls dotted around the courtyard. "Who leads them?" he asked, trying to identify a dominant form amongst the closely packed ringleaders.

"Nathan Eames. He's as dangerous as they come, trust me, you do not want to be on the wrong side of his knife. The guy's laden with weapons. Knifes strapped to his arms, guns at his hips. He needs to be, you wouldn't believe how dangerous things are for him," Rosie said, pointing to the guy the group of leaders seemed to be forming around. His navy hood was pulled well over his head, the only visible part of his face was the tip of his nose and smouldering point of his cigarette.

John looked extremely worried. "How does he get away with it?" he questioned.

"Brute force. If you were a teacher, would you take him on?" Rosie asked. "When he's done here, he's taking up his Dad's old job as drug lord of the local ring. The industry's booming right now and that guy is upcoming. People are saying he needs to hurry up and have kids if he wants the business to stay in his family. He'll meet his sticky end in his late thirties, if he's lucky. His dad died in a street brawl and his grandpa was murdered when he couldn't pay off the loan sharks. It's his half brother that's carrying the business right now, holding it for him."

Arthur was shocked, his eyes darting between the gang, always coming back to rest on the boy they seemed to be congregating around. He was only an inch or two smaller than the tallest of them, just a little shorter than Arthur himself but he had an air of dominance, a dangerous aura. Suddenly, his head turned slightly so that it was inclined towards the three of them. He murmured something unintelligible to his friends and they all peered over their shoulders at the brothers, causing Arthur to look down.

"Just be careful, yeah? I don't want you guys getting hurt on your first day," Rosie heeded with a worried smile.

Arthur nodded. "Thanks, Rosie, it was real nice of you to show us around," he told her.

"No problem," she replied kindly, "And if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."

It was just then that the registration bell rang and Arthur felt ten burning pairs of eyes leave his back. The students slowly milled to their classes, John clapping Arthur on the shoulder before they went their separate ways. Arthur was glad to find Rosie was in his classes and gratefully took the seat she offered him when they got to their first class. Biology, a subject in which Arthur excelled.

As he put his bag under the bench and perched himself on top of the stool next to Rosie, he became aware of someone behind him. Slowly, he turned his head to see who it was. An extremely pretty girl, the popular type with a skirt that was too short for comfort and a blouse with buttons that were practically popping off at her chest. "Hi," he said politely, even if he was startled by her proximity.

"Hey, you're the Yank, right?" she asked in a sly tone, one that was so slippery Arthur couldn't figure out if she was serious or not.

He smirked a little at that word, one that had often been applied to him since he got here. "Yeah, the name's Arthur. And you are?" he asked, spinning slightly to face her.

She giggled in an awfully attention seeking way. "Jane Legates. If you don't mind me saying, I seriously love your accent, it's just too cute," she replied with a smile.

Arthur blushed at that. "Thanks," he murmured, his mind ticking over the name. Legates... Anthony Legates was lead of the smaller of the two dominant gangs in the school, the CRB.

"You're such a slut, Jane," came a new voice, rich and throaty, from the door of the lab. Arthur looked up in surprise, his eyes falling on none other than the broad gangster from the quad, hood still concealing his face. Nathan Eames. "The poor Yank's been here two seconds and you're already chatting him up. What happened to Kai?"

"Kai's a cheating bastard, we both know it, sweetheart," Jane purred as she spotted Nathan but obviously knew he meant business. She backed down, all but dancing back to her seat.

"Skank," Nathan muttered under his breath as he took a seat on the bench in front of Arthur's.

The teacher entered, an elderly man that bore a stunning resemblance to Albert Einstein. "Hood, Eames," he called across the classroom as he went to his desk, pulling a folder from his shelf.

Nathan seemed to at least hold a small measure of respect for his teachers as he removed his hood in an instant. "Yeah, Mr Morgan," he drawled, peering over his shoulder and winking at Arthur. This allowed the younger boy to get a good look at his face for the first time.

And he was handsome. Incredibly so. Fairytale gorgeous with a rugged twist, scars marring his face. The kind of blue eyes that you just wanted to fall into. Arthur smiled back and turned his head to the front as Mr Morgan began the lesson, but he couldn't help but feel his eyes drifting to Nathan.

_**A/N:**__ So, this is the start of Part 2! I really hope you enjoyed and if you did please review and follow, as the story will be heating up very soon. Also, do you like the idea of putting a song quote at the start of the chapter? :) S xxx_


	2. Pleasant Surprise

**Pleasant Surprise  
**_Ain't we all just Runaways?  
I knew it when I met you,  
I'm not gonna let you,  
Runaway,  
_The Killers, Runaways

"So, I want a ten-piece slide show on Specialised Cells ready to present on Friday," Mr Morgan told them. "If you pair up before the end of the period and tell me who you'll be working with."

Arthur turned to Rosie and found she'd done the exact same thing. "Mind if I work with you?"

She laughed. "Depends. How hard are you willing to work? I'm not jeopardising my straight As for some lazy yank," she said with a grin.

"Straight As? Impressive," he replied. "I swear I'll do my bit."

"I swear I will hold you to your word," she told him. "How about you come over to mine tonight and we start working?"

He grinned and pulled out a slip of paper, jotting down a few digits and handing it over. "Give me a call."

The first week of school was something of a blur for Arthur. The days passed quickly and he learned a lot, in and out of lessons. He was actually surprised by how fun making the presentation with Rosie was and didn't mind spending his Monday night on Biology homework.

Nathan remained out of sight and mind for the most part as they generally didn't interact in classes. It wasn't until his second Phys Ed period of the week that he truly got his first taste of him and who he was. And to say he was pleasantly surprised was an understatement. He was relieved. As part of a CRE programme, they'd done a period of weight training in which Arthur found himself in a group with the guy himself, plus two of his lackeys.

Arthur stood before the three massive guys, his body skinny and stick like. "This should be fun!" Nathan said with a grin, clapping the smallest of them on the shoulder.

Arthur smirked. "Just... don't hurt me," he insisted, swallowing hard.

Miss Simpson set their group to a hard programme of muscle endurance, believing Arthur was a fair contender with the others. When he questioned her, she merely replied 'Nathan will take good care of you if nothing else.'

Nathan had just grinned at that, only making Arthur's nerves worse. "What's your best?" he asked, arching his arm over his back to stretch. It was only now that Arthur realised his grin resembled a shark's. It was cute and captivating but there was something off about it, it screamed danger.

Arthur just shrugged worriedly, causing the older boy to grin. Nathan whistled to one of his friends and got down on the floor, assuming a press up stance. To Arthur's shock, the bigger of the two boys knelt on Nathan's back, grabbing the other for support as Nathan began to perform press ups with little more than a grunt. "He must be... fifteen stone!" Arthur pointed out in shock.

Nathan got to his feet and grinned. "Sixteen and a half," he amended, sighing slightly as he flexed. "Reckon you could do it in a year?"

Arthur snorted in disbelief, knowing his back would crack under a sixteen stone guy. Thankfully, Nathan's friends were ready to help, even if they weren't all that nice.

"He's not really built like us, Eames," one boy pointed out.

"Yeah, he's scrawny," the other added.

Nathan snorted and hooked his arm around Arthur's neck. "He's cute! Can we keep him?" he joked.

Arthur laughed and broke free of his grasp, giving Nathan a light shove. He did his best to disguise the reddish stain in his cheeks, not wanting to know their playful ridicule was embarrassing him.

Nathan grinned. "Okay, give me twenty press ups, New Jersey!" he commanded.

Arthur sighed and just stared at Nathan for a second, trying to see if he meant it or not. When Nathan didn't flinch, Arthur blew out a lot of hot air and dropped to the ground, doing twenty press ups fairly easily. "Come on, pretty boy, keep going," Nathan added when that was done. He had Arthur doing press ups until his arms buckled. "Good, that's good," he said as he helped the panting kid to his feet. "You're not a complete twig."

"I'm more of a soccer kind of guy," Arthur admitted between pants.

Nathan's brow furrowed. "Soccer's American for football, right? Black and white ball, eleven on each side," He asked.

Arthur laughed. "Oh, right. Yeah it is, sorry," he replied quickly as he rubbed his arms.

"Quite alright," Nathan replied. "Now we know what pretty boy can do... sit ups, come on!"

One of the guys, messy brown hair, moss green eyes and slightly shorter than Nathan piped up. "You first!" he commanded with a grin.

"Shut up, Shanty! Floor now, sit ups!" Nathan repeated with a chuckle. "For that, you can do sit ups till you need a trip to A 'nd E!"

"Shanty, you tosser!" the other boy snapped, dropping to the floor.

Arthur grinned as he dropped to the floor. "What the hell is _Shanty?"_ he asked quietly.

"It's a sea song," the other guy replied. "And boy does Shanty love to sing when he's blazing! I'm Russell, by the way."

As he began the exercise, hands behind his head and Nathan keeping his feet planted on the ground, Arthur couldn't help but notice how everyone was staring in awe at the American co-operating with the biggest bullies in the playground. "Come on, Arty, I don't see you crying yet!" Nathan joked as Arthur passed the thirty mark.

Arthur just laughed and picked up the pace, his abdomen starting to ache.

It was a period of tough, gritty work as Arthur fought hard to compete with the others. Nathan joked and smiled, doing a brilliant job at motivating his group. It was easy to see why he led his gang. He was charismatic, confident and his strength made even Shanty and Russell look weak, which was an amazing feat.

Later, as Arthur changed into his uniform, Nathan came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder, which still ached horribly from the press ups. Arthur disguised a wince as a laugh. "Hey," he greeted.

Nathan nodded in greeting as he reached for a fresh t-shirt in his bag. "Hi, New Jersey. How was that for you?" he asked as he yanked his sweaty t-shirt up over his head.

Arthur tried hard not to stare at his muscular and awe inspiring chest, riddled with scars and remnants of wounds, instead focusing on the question he'd been presented with. "Great, thanks. I'm glad you weren't too harsh on my obvious lack of athleticism," he replied with a grin.

"Ah, no worries, treat others how you'd have them treat you and all that crap," Nathan told him as he pulled on the fresh t-shirt. "You'll have your chance to raze me to the ground on Wednesday. We're starting footie, or soccer as the Yanks call it."

Arthur laughed. "How convenient," he muttered as he swung his bag onto his back. "Not a football kind of guy?"

"Me? No, mate. As long as I can run like a bullet and fight like a gladiator, my brother's happy with me. I don't really care about sports, just athletics," Nathan admitted with a smile.

Arthur just grinned, feeling surprisingly at ease around the oddly kind yet scary guy.

"Plans for tonight?" the older boy asked.

Arthur considered this for a second, thinking he'd just stay in and watch a movie or two. "Nah, just a lazy night in, I think."

"Good. Come to Diane Hendrick's party," Nathan commanded more than suggested, his eyes twinkling.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Don't know her," he pointed out.

"So what? You know me, my boys, Rosie. And I know for a fact that our good friend, Jane Legates is taking your brother," he answered with a smirk.

"John?! With her?" Arthur said, completely shocked.

"Jealous?"

"Impressed, more like," he replied with a cheeky grin, trying to imagine how on earth John could have scored her.

Nathan scoffed. "Yeah, she's hot. But easy as hell, I like a pursuit, a challenge. And I also like someone who isn't the sibling of a psychopath," he said.

It occurred to Arthur that he heard nothing but negativity about the CRB front man from everyone he spoke to. "What is it with this Anthony guy, anyway? He sounds like an asshole," he said as he flattened his hair.

Nathan snorted as he pulled his bag onto his back. "He is. Thinks he's hard as rock but he'd never beat me. He makes himself look tough by openly attacking my sort and I take it 'cause I really don't give a crap. I know I'd fuck anyone that was fit and willing so it really isn't offensive to me. And people think just 'cause I don't bite back, he's hardcore," he replied sourly.

"Sounds like a dickhead."

"Steer well clear, cutie," Nathan instructed before winking and walking out.

Arthur could only grin for a minute or two, standing there like an idiot. Not only had a guy who was mouth wateringly hot taken off his t-shirt unashamedly before him, but he was bisexual too? He'd struck gold.

Arthur decided he would be attending the party no matter who was hosting it. Nathan would be there and that meant one hell of a night.

_**A/N:** I know it's late! Quit looking at me like that *humph* Blame Tumblr. Whenever I'm slow to update, blame Tumblr. Also, Merlin and SNL. Seriously, Daniel Craig and MUSE in one programme. Wild horses couldn't have dragged me away from my computer. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, don't be afraid to tap that Review button and let me know what you think! S xxxxx_


	3. House Party

**House** **Party**  
_Some nights, I stay up cashing in my bad luck,  
Some nights, I call it a draw,  
Some nights, I wish that my lips could build a castle,  
Some nights, I wish they'd just fall off,_  
Fun. Some Nights

The engine stopped and John gulped hard as he pulled the key from the car's ignition. "Is it weird that I'm nervous?" he asked his little brother who sat in the passenger's seat.

Arthur guffawed. "She's gorgeous, course you should be nervous. Just be careful, I hear a lot of bad things about her."

John smiled at his little brother, nervous that he'd be excluded for his quiet nature. "I know. She's supposed to be easy, floozy, slutty... but there's something about her that I _really _like."

"Confidence is key, man. Who knows, maybe you'll be the guy to tame the wild beast!" Arthur joked before getting out of the car. He pulled his red hoody straight before giving his brother a bear hug. "I have my phone. Anything goes wrong, you find me, okay?"

"Ditto."

The Emerson brothers turned to the high rise building and John scanned his phone, looking for the text he'd gotten from Jane that contained the address. He led Arthur up and, at the door, they parted ways, John almost immediately spotting a scantily clad Jane Legates. Arthur sighed and went through to the living room where techno music was blasting out of the speakers that had been set up. Now, to find a familiar face.

"Hey," he heard over the blasting music. He looked around and felt his stomach leap as his eyes settled on Nathan, all alone. His black t-shirt was stretched to bursting point over his muscular chest, the open hoody he wore over it clinging to his broad frame.

Arthur gulped hard and choked out, "Hi."

Perhaps he just hadn't noticed when the guy was surrounded by his cronies and looking menacing, but Nathan genuinely made Arthur nervous and not because he was scary. Nathan was the type of person that made your heart skip a beat, he had that rare quality about him.

"Liking it here?"

"Er, yeah! Much more exciting," Arthur replied truthfully, swallowing hard and trying to act cool. He'd seen a lot of pretty guys in his time and he didn't understand why this one had him stuttering over his words.

"I bet you didn't get thugs like me bench pressing sixteen stones in your poncy old private school," Nathan said with a grin.

Arthur chuckled and flattened his hair idly. "No, that was something new!" he admitted, his eyes glittering with mirth.

Nathan's smile grew wider as he pulled the lid off of a cooler that sat behind him. He pulled out two soaking bottles. "Beer?"

"I... I don't like drinking," Arthur lied quickly, his throat growing tight.

Nathan raised an eyebrow and Arthur knew he'd sensed the wobble in his voice. "Come on, mate. Just one, it's a party. Bet the snob dorms never had parties like this!" he said with a laugh.

Arthur considered this, watching the icy water on the bottles roll down Nathan's heavily tattooed forearms.

Then, Rosie appeared out of the crowds, a half drunk can of energy juice in hand. "You of all people shouldn't be pressurising people into drinking, Nathan," she said, smiling kindly at Arthur.

Nathan grinned and set the beers down on the floor, pulling Rosie into his arms and kissing her on the forehead. "Hey, sweetie," he greeted merrily. She hugged him hard and Arthur had to smile. "You're not still mad about _that, _are you?" Nathan asked in disbelief as he let her go.

"When you get me pissed out of my mind and let me face my parents on my own, I'm going to hold a grudge. You can't just wink at me and expect me to melt like butter, which is what happens with pretty much _everyone _else," Rosie pointed out, elbowing her friend roughly.

"We go back a long way," Nathan explained to Arthur with a grin. "What about that beer, cutie? Or are you going to be as stubborn as my darling little princess?"

Arthur sighed, melting under Nathan's gaze. "One, and that's it," he replied and keeled down to get one of the bottles. "Got an opener?"

"Don't need one," Nathan answered, grabbing the second and putting the top in his mouth. With a swift yank, the bottle was open, leaving Nathan to pass it onto Arthur and take the closed one. He took the cap out of his mouth and threw it into the masses that danced in the middle of the room, repeating his actions on the second bottle.

Arthur tentatively wiped the neck of his bottle, causing Nathan to laugh. "What a fancy twat!" he guffawed and watched in satisfaction as Arthur blushed furiously.

"Sorry, bro, but I don't know where you've been!" he replied gruffly, causing Rosie to giggle.

Nathan just snorted. "I'm not a total animal," he insisted with a grin.

Rosie raised an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself," she said, taking a gulp of her own drink. Nathan quickly tipped the end of the can up whilst Rosie drunk, causing it to spill down her face. He laughed uncontrollably whilst she scowled and wiped her face, shoving him to the side. "I'm gonna go talk to Russell," she said with a wink, causing Nathan to snort. Then, she went towards the blond haired, blue eyed boy that Arthur knew was one of Nathan's closest friends.

"She's got a thing for Russell? Great, won't here the end of this for months, darling, Russell's taken a fancy to her too," Nathan said with a sigh, his face crumpling at the thought of the sickly conversation he was bound to have with Russell the following morning.

Arthur chuckled and took a sip of the vile drink, his face scrunching up at the taste. "C'mon, then, exactly how disease ridden are you?" he asked Nathan with a smirk.

Nathan shot him a bemused look. "Shut your trap, you Yank! I'm as clean as a whistle, thank you very much. And I get tested. When the last two generations got their throats sliced when they were in their thirties, I'm looking for a little more spectacular death than some shitty STI at seventeen," Nathan pointed out, downing a gulp of beer like it was air.

"That's where you see your life going, then, sliced throat at thirty?" Arthur asked edgily, almost shivering at the thought.

"I ain't got no choice, mate. Lindsey says I'd be bloody lucky to see thirty, I'm not exactly as careful as the predecessors. The thrill of it all sometimes takes over with me," be admitted.

"I can't believe you aren't behind bars!"

"Every man has his price, boyo, and even the police can be held off in my lot's case. Not to mention we slip through their fingers like sand!" he replied.

"Really? You don't seem like the type to run," Arthur said.

Nathan raised an eyebrow and thought Arthur had a point. He was a fighter, skilled and powerful to take down almost anyone. But he thought of how it felt, a good chase, and knew that there was only one true answer. "I don't like running when there's no one to chase me."

"So it's all about the thrill?"

"Of course. There's nothing better than knowing your will and physical ability is all that stands between you and disaster. Makes you feel... alive, like _absolutely anything _could happen. Like you could fly, if you really wanted! But you wouldn't know, would you, posh boy?" Nathan said, his eyes glistening as he spoke.

Arthur grinned, averting his eyes to his shoes. "I have to say, I have lived a very sheltered life. But that sounds amazing. Show me sometime?"

Nathan smiled slowly. "Yeah... alright."

Arthur smiled back. "So, what's so badass about you that people chase you? Other than you look like somebody out of the Godfather."

"No, my turn to ask a question," Nathan insisted, setting down a third empty bottle and reaching for a fourth. "Seeing as you're a sheltered posh boy that's probably never tasted adventure, what was the best day of your life?"

Arthur grinned, "Easy. The day I found out I was going to public school," he replied.

"Why?"

"Sick of the snobs, the preps, the complete lack of adventure," Arthur answered, choking down the dregs of his second bottle. Nathan tossed him a third and uncapped his own with his teeth. "How do you do that?"

"How do you think?" Nathan asked with a chuckle.

Arthur sighed. "What if I chip a tooth?"

Nathan snorted and laughed. "It happens. I wish I could say these were from bar fights but I've just cracked them on bottles," he admitted, smiling widely to reveal a mouthful of oddly charming crooked teeth. "But I bet you could afford the cosmetic dentistry."

Arthur smiled a slow smile, his white teeth shining in the dim light of the room that was practically shaking under the bass pounding from the speakers. "Yeah, but I wouldn't want it fixed," he answered and gripped the cap of the bottle with his teeth, yanking sharply. With a twinge of pain and a crack of whiplash, the top came clean off. Arthur spat it out and took a gulp, seeing Nathan grinning at him out of the corner of his eye.

"What's more adventurous about public school anyway?" the older boy asked.

Arthur considered this for a second, not minding the now familiar stench of beer as it seared a path to his stomach. "Would you believe I've never drunk before?"

Nathan scoffed for a second but the laughs soon ran out when he caught sight of Arthur's pink cheeks. "Wait... Are you serious?"

Arthur nodded grimly.

"Never had a little poof juice at a party?"

"We couldn't get drink on campus."

"Never sneaked a bottle of Smirnoff out of the cupboard?"

"No."

"Christ... Mate, you haven't lived," Nathan pointed out.

Arthur snorted. "I need to get pissed to have a life?" he asked incredulously.

"No, I'm just making the assumption that if you've never drunk, there's a lot of stuff you've never done," Nathan answered, his eyes wide. "Be honest, do you feel like a normal teenager?"

Arthur smiled slowly, his warm chocolate eyes searching Nathan's blue ones and all sense of what Nathan had asked departing him. "Your eyes..." he murmured absently.

"Yeah?" Nathan prompted, leaning forward slightly.

"They're..." Arthur muttered, unable to fathom a description. The purest blue with flecks of aqua and slate grey. Beautiful. Captivating. He looked away sharply. "Cute," he said quietly, upending his bottle into his mouth, gulping down the acrid liquid like there was no tomorrow.

Nathan smiled sweetly. "Watch it, mate. You'll be a real lightweight, take it easy," he heeded as Arthur put the empty bottle down.

"Fuck that. This is a party, I am a teenager... Let's get smashed," Arthur said, more instructing than proposing.

Nathan gaped at Arthur. It was a bad idea. A shitty one. But since when did he make smart decisions? "Good," was all he said, chugging his fourth beer and opening another two.

Two beers each later, they were on their feet, dancing like madmen. They didn't stand out for everyone was at least tipsy, but they sure added to the raucous noise.

It wasn't until late at night that John reappeared, his eyes going wide at the sight of his drunken little brother. He glared at Nathan, who just smirked back. He was edging on tipsy but was by no means drunk. "How much has be had?"

Nathan grinned, watching as John took a firm grip of Arthur's shoulder, holding him still. "Four beers since he came to me, so about six units. Real lightweight, this one!"

"He's just a kid-"

"He's sixteen."

"Still illegal, even for you and half the kids in here."

"The laws in this country are bogus. I could legally shag anyone in this room right now, yet I can't buy a beer in a pub," Nathan pointed out with a roll of his eyes.

John grimaced at him. "Laws are laws, kid. Not that you care. According to Anthony, you've broken just about every rule in the book and you think you're so badass," he snapped sourly.

Nathan narrowed his eyes. "What else has that faggot been saying about me, then? Seeing as you're so driven on getting into his good books so you can screw his sister."

"Not much... just that you're gay. True or not?"

Nathan scoffed. "Mate, who and what I do in the bedroom is none of your business. But if you must know, if they're good looking and willing... Heck, why not?" He said with a shark like grin.

John sighed. The guy was honest and unprejudiced, he could give him that. "Just... stay away from Arthur. He's too inexperienced to take care of himself in these parts," he explained wearily.

Nathan scoffed, gulping down more beer. "You tell your little brother I'm willing to take _care_ of him if he is," he offered with a devilish wink, John's squirming making him grin.

John rolled his eyes. "I'm taking him home before you start slipping him pills," he snapped, pulling Arthur towards the front door.

Nathan chortled, ruffling his hair idly before upending what must have been his seventh bottle. His phone shrilled in his pocket and he stepped outside, pressing it to his ear as he watched John and Arthur climb into a cab. "Lindsey, darling," he greeted with a smile.

_**A/N:** Aha, I hope you appreciate this! My music is the only thing keeping me awake right now! -_- zzzzzz If the editing is a little iffy, that's why! October hols coming up, I'll be updating more often (yay!) Please tap the review button and let me know what you think, it means a lot! S xxxxx_


	4. Every Second

**Every**** Second****  
**_How can you see into my eyes like open doors?_  
_Leading you down into my core where I've become so numb,_  
_Without a soul my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold,_  
_ until you find it there and lead it back home  
_Evanescence, Bring Me To Life

"Hey, Nathan. Listen, how drunk are you?" Lindsey asked, his drawl and tone oddly similar to Nathan's.

"Seven beers and something that tasted _really _strong. Christ knows what it was," Nathan replied with a grin. "So... yeah, not too bad!"

"Reckon you could run in a straight line?"

Nathan laughed. "Your confidence in me is as flattering as ever, darling brother of mine! I'm only tipsy, promise," he said.

Lindsey breathed out a lot of hot air. "Soon you could stay sober as long as me," he replied, his amused tone making Nathan smile.

"What's up, then?" the younger of the two brothers asked.

"Alright, Old Man Carter is months behind on loan payments and the loan sharks' own men are all either pissed or gone. So they're going to give us generous compensation to go on easy enough... er... hit and run, shall we say? The guys in his sixties and he overdosed on coke in his thirties, he's in no fit state to deal any damage to us," Lindsey insisted. "We take him out and we run."

Nathan hesitated. "I don't know... An old geezer, mate," he said hesitantly.

"Nathan, remember the big guns you see the sharks' hitmen with, the ones you could turn a skull to dust with? They're offering them to us... to keep," Lindsey said, his voice resembling a little boy on Christmas eve.

Nathan's eyes lit up at the thought of the hulks of black metal and plastic, so powerful they only looked at home in the hands of a mountainous guy. In other words, him. "You're serious?"

Lindsey chuckled darkly. "I mean every word."

"Who should I bring?"

"Russell and Shanty if you must. But I don't know if they'll like this, killing off an old man. I've got my two best boys here with me, that's all we'll need," Lindsey explained, his tone malicious.

Nathan grinned. "I'll be at the warehouse in half an hour. Get your lot there on time, yeah?"

"Sure thing, boss. Want the reins tonight?"

The younger boy's eyes twinkled at the thought of commanding his half brother whom he'd stood in the shadow of for so long. "I'd love that, Lindsey. It's about time I started asserting my dominance over the area, this school crap has gone on for too long."

* * *

The next morning, Arthur leaned over the sink, taking in his rough appearance.

"Arty!" John called through the door. "You okay?"

Arthur padded to the bathroom door and opened it. "Keep your voice down, my head is freaking pounding!" he snapped wearily.

John snorted. "Hungover, much?" he asked with a grin. "That'll teach you to pace yourself."

The younger brother rolled his eyes, leaning his head on the doorpost. "Nathan was chugging beer like there was no tomorrow," he pointed out.

"Eames has been binge drinking since he hit thirteen whereas you've never touched a bottle before last night," John pointed out, his eyes narrowed.

Arthur sighed, his head throbbing and his brother not doing much to help. "Okay, I'll be more careful. Better, Mom?" he said sourly.

John ignored the comment, fixed on getting what he wanted out of his hopeless little brother. "I don't want you hanging around him and his gang either," he demanded, a sharp edge in his voice.

With a groan, Arthur pushed past his brother, "What's it to you?" he asked, going a few steps down the hall before turning back to him.

"He's vicious, Arthur, god knows what he'd do to you if he got you hooked on him!" John snapped, remembering Nathan's words last night. No matter how joking his tone had been, John knew a small part of him meant it. "The guy is a freaking drug lord and a trained assassin, it's in his blood. You should see the papers this morning. Just last night they blew a defenceless old geezer's head off with machine guns and the police can't find them, let alone take them down. They. Are. Dangerous."

Arthur froze. "How do they know it was them?" he asked sharply.

"They leave their mark, their logo. They draw it with spray paint, bullets, heck, they even used the guy's blood. They're good at what they do and they're proud of it."

The young boy gulped hard. "You're one to talk. You were kissing Anthony Legates' ass last night. The CRB are just as dangerous!"

It was John's turn to grimace. "The CRB are wannabes compared to Eames. They're just puppies that need someone to pull in their lead. Nathan and his half-brother are Rottweilers that even the experts can't cage. When are you going to get that? The Eames family and that god damned Lindsey Cooper, they're bigger than Bricksdale Road. They're notorious to the entire city, not to mention it looks bad on me if my little brother is twisted around the ringleader's little finger."

"How exactly would this reflect badly on you?" Arthur snapped irritably.

John smirked. "I've gotten myself a date with Jane."

Arthur snorted as he padded back to his room, his brother's words like lead weights on his shoulders. John had always been self centred but Arthur knew when he started worrying over his little brother, there really was reason to worry.

* * *

"Arthur Emerson, here," Arthur said as he pressed his phone to his ear. He was leaning out of his bedroom's window, the cool city breeze calming his hangover. The number was unrecognised.

"Hey, sweetie!" Came the unmistakable drawl of Nathan Eames.

Arthur jumped, the window's frame digging into his ribs. "Nathan? How'd you get my number?" he asked incredulously as he rubbed at his chest.

Nathan laughed, rich and throaty like his accent. "You're adorable, you know that?" he said.

Arthur felt his cheeks flush and was glad Nathan wasn't there to see it. "Seriously..."

This was followed by another chuckle. "Rosie gave it to me. You know, my friend that you flirted with mercilessly in Biology? That dug deep, by the way, thought I meant more to you than that!" he replied jokingly.

Arthur laughed in embarrassment. "That was for a science project," he pointed out as he downed two painkillers and half a bottle of water.

Eames just laughed. "You okay, darling? You sound a little rough."

"Yeah, fine, just a hangover. John's mad at you," Arthur admitted.

"I figured that much."

Arthur's smile faltered as he remembered what John had said. "Hey, John told me about the... _thing_ last night... Did you really kill that old man?"

There was a second of silence in which Nathan sighed. "Arthur.. You have to get that this is what is expected of me. I'm not proud of it but I have my family's reputation to uphold. Not to mention those sharks would have came after all my guys if we refused. I did it to protect the people I care about," he insisted.

"According to the police he was defenceless," Arthur added quietly.

"Look, why don't you come out? I'll buy us fish and chips and we can talk," Nathan proposed sincerely.

Arthur hesitated. This was an armed killer, a teenager so good adults were after his services. But this was Nathan, the nice guy from last night who'd been nothing but kind. "Alright," he replied against his better judgement.

Nathan made an adorable sound and went on to suggest a meeting point.

"I'll see you there," Arthur replied with a smile.

"Stay adorable."

"Stay awesome."

Then Arthur hung up, sliding his phone into his pocket and pulling his hoody from his bed. Just then, John put his head round the door.

"I'm going out to meet Jane. Just..."

"Stay clear of Nathan Eames, I heard you the first time," Arthur said dryly, flattening his hair idly.

John nodded. "Good... See you," he answered flatly.

Then, he was gone and Arthur was left to pull on his hoody and traipse through the house to find his parents. He found his dad in the kitchen, a sandwich in hand.

"Hey, Dad. Mind if I go into town?" he asked lightly.

"Who with? John?"Mr Emerson questioned.

"Nah, John has a date," Arthur replied, smirking at his father's surprised expression. "You wouldn't know who I'm meeting, anyway."

Mr Emerson sighed. "Phone on, home by eleven at the very latest and if you get into any trouble-"

"I know the drill, paps," Arthur said as he receded towards the front door. "Bye," he called.

"Bye."

Soon, Arthur hopped off a city bus and looked across the small square, spotting the chip shop Eames had told him about across the grass. In the fading light of the day, Arthur wandered over, a smile lighting his eyes when he saw Nathan. "Hi," he said brightly, feeling his heart soar at the very sight of him. He reminded himself that there was very little doubt that Nathan had been on the other side of the machine gun from that old man, Carter last night but he contented himself with the possibility that it may have been his brother, who was infamous in the area for being a psychopath and a sadist. Yes, why would this Lindsey Cooper guy let Nathan do the dirty work when vaporising someone's head gave him a high?

"Hey, darling," Nathan greeted with a smile, taking note of Arthur's gaunt, rough appearance. "How's that hangover?"

"I'll survive."

Nathan chuckled. "You'd better!" he replied. "Hungry?"

Arthur smiled as he noticed his headache had softened, the painkillers finally kicking in. "I could eat a horse," he answered eagerly.

"Ah, me too, mate," Nathan said. About ten minutes later, they had a portion of fish and chips each. Nathan was pretty much wolfing his down at a rate that suggested he hadn't ate all day. Arthur had had little more than a bowl of cereal and a sandwich, meaning he too was ravenous.

As Arthur ate, John's words came back to him. He felt guilty, very guilty. John looked out for him, and here he was, going against his wishes. "John's gonna kill me if he finds out about this," he murmured, causing Nathan to freeze.

The older boy sat up straight and sniffed. "He's just worried, Arthur. And with good reason. I have a lot of baggage and everyone I'm seen with is instantly at risk of something," Nathan replied. "I don't want to put you in danger, trust me, I just know that, in my line of work, I have to enjoy every second I get."

"You don't seriously think that something... bad could happen any second, do you?"

"It could. If someone's tongue slips, the police could find me. If I knock the wrong sort of person out of the market, I could be murdered... that's why I'm so well trained. I'm not as sharp as my dad, as my grandpa, so I'm fit enough to take down pretty much anyone," he replied quietly, tossing his empty chip tray into a nearby bin.

Arthur sighed and finished his own food, putting the papers in the bin after. "I'll be honest, I don't feel... safe around you. You're so big, so well armed. I feel like you might just lose it and beat me up... or worse. And you're not the only one! Shanty and Russell scare the crap out of me. Anthony Legates, your brother, both of whom I've never even _seen. _And John... I'm worried about him. I'm scared he might join the CRB," he said honestly, ruffling his hair in anxiety.

Nathan was quiet for a second, as if trying to figure out what to say. "Arthur... I know I've known you for a week, but I feel very protective of you. You're a good kid and you deserve better than me, a lowlife thug that you don't feel safe around. But you have to trust me on this. If anything were to happen, I would do absolutely everything in my power to protect you," he said sincerely, exhaling heavily. "And I can vouch for Shanty, for Russell. They'd never hurt you because they know that I would never hurt you. As for John..."

"Anything could happen."

Nathan nodded solemnly. "I don't know what he's got in his head but Anthony is dangerous, even more so than me. I'm a very nice guy in comparison to most of the big names in these parts. Anthony isn't famous but he is brutal. John is walking straight into the lion's den, Arthur. I do everything in my power to protect people I care about but Anthony takes that to a whole new level. He is overprotective of Jane, I think he's hospitalised a few guys that got too close for comfort. It's in his best interests to take things slow, Anthony is unpredictable, unstable," he explained quietly.

Arthur swallowed hard, reaching for his water to sooth his now dry throat. "John's on a date with her now."

Nathan snorted. "You tell your brother that he'd better be real careful, 'cause I have no idea what would set that psychopath off."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Sorry about the slow updates right now. Having bother sleeping, in turn being tired out by school and then not being in a good mood to write! Trying my very hardest, though! Please drop a review, they put a nice smile on my face! :D S xxxx


	5. Odd Encounter

**_A/N:_**_ This chapter is in the modern day, set after Relapse, just to save any confusion! It will all be relevant in the third story of this little trilogy I'm writing, promise! If you haven't read Relapse, I'm sorry but there's more A/E tomorrow night, promise! :)_**  
**

**Odd Encounter  
**_If I lay here,__**  
**__If I just lay here,__**  
**__Would you lie with me and just forget the world?_**  
**Snow Patrol, Chasing Cars

Bridie skidded to a halt in the alleyway, her chest heaving with exhaustion. She checked every shadow and corner as Eames set Arthur down on the ground, pulling off his blood soaked shirt to tend to the bullet wound in his shoulder.

"God, I'm so sorry! I should have done something," Ariadne said angrily, kneeling beside Arthur and using her sleeve to clear away the very worst of the blood, allowing her a better look at it.

Eames sighed, standing up and leaning against the opposite wall. "It's alright, Ari. You couldn't have done anything, not to mention that could have killed you if you'd taken it. He won't die. Arthur's taken bullets to his abdomen and survived, he's harder than you'd think," he replied wearily, motioning to Bridie to come to his side.

After assuring herself that they were safe, Bridie joined the three of them. Arthur was pale and silent, his eyes betraying just how agonised he was. "I've been trained to take care of wounds on the field, I could have a look if you want, Ariadne," she offered with a sympathetic smile.

The younger woman looked up at Eames' girlfriend, her expression worrisome. They'd never met, why should Ariadne trust this girl with the love of her life? But what other choice did she have? Bridie had been a Navy sailor, trained for warfare and Tom clearly deemed her to be trustworthy. "Okay," she whispered, kissing Arthur on the cheek before getting to her feet.

"Ari, sweetheart, I know you haven't done this much, but can you please be our lookout?" Eames asked softly, gesturing to the gun she still held in shaking hands.

Ariadne tightened her grip on the weapon, her knuckles white. "Yeah, it's the least I could do," she replied, gulping hard before going to the alleyway entrance and leaning into the shadows, her keen eyes scanning the streets before her.

Bridie dropped to Arthur's side, her deft fingers, trained in bomb making, worked on his shoulder. She was no doctor but she'd done this sort of thing before and had watched Yusuf perform a similar procedure on her leg in the Dream City.

Eames knelt down next to her, feeling his chest constrict at the sight of his wounded brother. "What have we done?" he asked, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"We've escaped, Tom. We've outran the police, outran jail."

"Your parents. Cobol are going to kill them," he replied.

Bridie repressed a sob, the truth of his words striking her hard. She pulled the bullet free from Arthur's shoulder, apologising profusely when he cursed and whimpered at an amazingly quiet volume. The blood flow quickened and she pressed a clean part of his shirt to the wound, pressing down hard in an attempt to stop it. Arthur was in agony and loosing coherency fast. "Stay with me, stay with us," she insisted.

"C'mon, Arthur, you can do this. You've had worse, haven't you? You've been in worse positions than this, darling," Eames murmured to his beloved friend, putting a warm hand on his knee. "Bridie..."

"I know, Eames!" she snapped, a whimper breaking free of her heaving chest. "I know my parents are as good as dead... please, just don't remind me."

Eames swallowed hard, wrapping his spare arm around her waist and pulling her close. "I'm sorry, love. We'll save them, I promise," he said quietly, kissing her neck in an attempt to comfort her.

Bridie made an effort to calm herself, glad to see her efforts were working. The blood flow had lightened considerably and was now rather weak. "We can't stick together, not all four of us. It wouldn't work. Too conspicuous, too easily caught. Not to mention we'd forever be compromising each other's safety, prioritising the person we love most," she said, casting Eames a sad sideways glance.

He nodded and sighed. Not to mention they were a fucked up lot. An American Point Man, a Canadian Architect, an English Forger and a Northern Irish explosives expert. "You're right. We need to split."

"That's all I can do with my fingers and a shirt, I'm afraid," she said, pulling the now crimson shirt away and throwing it to the floor. "Ariadne, can I have your scarf, please?"

Ariadne looked over her shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief as Arthur perked up. "Sure," she said and threw it over.

Bridie quickly wound it around Arthur's shoulder, pleased to see it worked well as a bandage. "Who knew having a bohemian in your team could be so helpful?" she muttered, causing Ariadne to smile.

A guttural grunt escaped Arthur's lips as he pushed himself into sitting up properly. "Thank you, Bridie," he muttered, pulling a gun from his waistband and loading it almost blindly. Ariadne didn't know whether to be intimidated or impressed. "You guys are right, we'll have to split."

Eames nodded sadly. "Disinfect that when you get the chance and change the bandage every now and then. I don't want to find out a septic bullet wound killed my little brother when the whole of the States were searching for him," he said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"I'm not that lame," Arthur replied, shoving himself to his feet with the assistance of Eames and suddenly realising he wasn't wearing a shirt. "This might be a problem," the half naked Point Man said, encompassing his blood slick torso with a motion of his hand.

Eames grinned. "Shirt or t-shirt?" he asked.

Arthur cast a glance at his jeans. "T-shirt, I think."

Eames unbuttoned his shirt and removed the black tee he wore under it, handing it over to Arthur before pulling the shirt back on. "Just don't die," he insisted as Arthur pulled it on.

Black t-shirt and dark jeans mean it would be almost impossible to tell Arthur had been shot and bled horrifically. It still hurt like hell and he was still light headed, but finding an obscure motel for the night wouldn't be a hard feat. "When have I ever died on you, Mr Eames?" he asked with a grin.

They exchanged painful and repressed goodbyes before parting ways, Arthur finding a car in a quiet side street of the town. He could hear sirens wailing in the distance and honestly couldn't believe how fast they'd ran. It just went to show the trained could do amazing things when they feared for their lives.

It took him less than a minute to hot wire the car, although it was unhinging when he struggled to disable the blaring alarm. Thankfully, they were soon speeding down the highway and Arthur identified them to be in South Carolina. He knew this corner of the state well, it had been a favourite of Mal's in the early days.

After hours of driving and worriedly glancing over their shoulders, the couple stopped in a tiny motel. When they entered the reception, Arthur was aware of the damp patch on his left shoulder. Bridie's bandage was bleeding through. When he glanced down, it just looked like a stain. Hopefully, no one would notice.

"Hey, there! What can I do for you?" the girl behind the desk asked. She was young, no older than Arthur, with olive skin, glossy black hair and a sweet South London accent. Her eyes went wide, dotting with recognition. "Arthur?"

Arthur's brow furrowed. Why did this stranger know his name? His eyes flickered up to the TV in the room and he realised with a blink that it was on the news, the red lettering under the anchor stating that there were four fugitives on the run from the police. Armed and highly dangerous, not to be approached under any circumstances. It then flashed to their photos. Arthur and Eames from years ago, both men looking young and stress free, their faces captured in the stifling streets of Mombassa. Ariadne in Los Angeles, exiting the hospital Arthur had been in after his relapse. A smiling Bridie in the arms of a strikingly similar girl who'd mostly been cropped out, both in British navy uniforms. The police had captured fake names, though, which offered a little relief.

"I don't really know what you're talking about," Arthur drawled convincingly, hoping it did the trick. "Can we get a double-"

"Arthur, it's me, Rosie! Don't you remember me?" she asked worriedly.

Arthur frowned. He really didn't, even if her face was oddly familiar. A twinge of pain began in his forehead, probably from his blood loss. "I'm not this Arthur guy and I really don't know who you are! Can I just get a room for me and my girlfriend?" he asked sharply, his real confusion helping to make his acting more convincing.

She glanced up at the TV, much to Arthur's annoyance. "Huh. Nathan been getting you into more trouble, has he? Doesn't surprise me... so you guys didn't work out, did you? After all you two went through..." she muttered, a real undertone of pain in her voice.

"Look, I don't know what's going on here. Maybe you've been let out of the retard hospital for the day-" Arthur snapped.

"Arthur!" Ariadne reprimanded, elbowing him sharply.

Arthur sighed. "Look, we've been driving all day. Call the police and I'll personally make sure you don't live to see another sunrise, okay? Just give us a fucking room," he said, his tone so quiet it was scary.

Rosie's eyes went wide. "Where's that sweet little kid I knew seven years ago, huh? Is it this dream sharing shit that's screwed you up?" she snapped, slamming a room key down on the desk before her.

Arthur snatched it up and stalked off without another word, leaving Ariadne to cast Rosie an apologetic glance and hurry after him. She caught up with him at the elevator, getting in beside him. "That was uncalled for. The poor girl's obviously not right in the head," she pointed out.

Arthur sighed, the twinge in his forehead slowly escalating. "I know, I just needed to get away from her. Your scarf is bleeding through and I need to do something," he replied, winding an arm around her waist.

Ariadne wearily curled into him, hoping there would be a first aid kit in their room. They got out of the elevator on the third floor and she assisted him to their door, unlocking it and letting him go inside. No sooner had she locked the door behind them had he found the first aid kit. He rifled through it for a second, pulling out a bottle of disinfectant, a roll of bandages and cotton swabs.

"Shower first, perhaps? You know, get rid of all the old blood," she suggested with a smile.

Arthur grinned. "This is why you're the smart one," he told her with a grin, kissing her lightly on the cheek before going into the bathroom.

Ariadne had to force herself to calm down. She sat on the bed and blew out a breath. This was it. She was alone with Arthur, real life, their only comfort and distraction from the depressing truth of their newfound infamy was each other. Ariadne wasn't going home to her parents anytime soon, she knew that. And the worst thing was they didn't even know she had left Paris. After something went right, everything else took a turn for the worse.

And now, Arthur. He was serious about her, even going as far as wanting to make the first time he made love to her as special as could be. She loved him and she doubted a bullet in his shoulder would dampen his spirits.

The water shut off and Ariadne balled up her fists in an attempt to keep calm. It wasn't until she heard a whimper that she went through to the bathroom. Arthur had a towel around his waist and was dabbing a swab on his slow bleeding wound. She glanced down to the sink and saw the bottle of disinfectant.

"Let me," she offered, taking his hand in hers.

He smiled and bent down to kiss her gently. "You don't have to."

"I want to," she replied simply, pulling him through to the bedroom and gesturing to him to sit down on the bed.

Gently, she took the swab and fetched the rest of the First Aid kit. With a feathery touch, she dabbed at the gaping hole, trying not to pay too much attention to the way his hands tightened on his towel, his knuckles going white. "I'm sorry," she murmured as she worked, the wound finally looking clean after a few minutes. "We'll have to stitch this when we get the chance."

"Yeah. It's easy enough. I'd better teach you, in case it ever happens to you and..."

"What?"

"I'm not there to help."

Ariadne shuddered at that thought, setting the bloody swab aside and plucking up a roll of bandages. She bound the wound tightly and made Arthur take some painkillers before emptying the contents of the first aid kit into her small purse.

As she soaked her scarf in the sink, Arthur's arms coiled around her waist, his breath tickling her ear. "Tired?" he asked suggestively, pressing his lips to her neck and sending a shiver down her spine.

"No... but I wouldn't mind going to bed," Ariadne replied with a smile, her eyes glinting in the dim light of the musty motel room.

He chuckled. "Best news I've heard all day."

_**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed! I didn't completely want to leave Relapse out of the loop and I wanted you guys to know what was going on. For those of you who didn't read Relapse, sorry that there's no A/E here, but there will be next chapter (hopefully tomorrow night) Whether you want to go back and read Relapse is completely up to you but, personally, I'm pretty proud of it! Please drop a review (I think I'll do this sort of chapter every tenth chapter, if you like that idea, let me know!) S xxxx_


	6. You Promised

_**A/N: **__Back to normal, folks! Set in London with the teenage A/E :)_

**Yo****u**** Promised**  
_I know you've suffered,  
But I don't want you to hide,  
It's cold and loveless,  
I won't let you be denied,  
_Muse, Undisclosed Desires

"Where are we going?"

"Depends. What sort of film do you like, Arty? Freaky horror, fast paced action... soppy romance?" Nathan asked with a grin, glancing sideways at the still slightly pale boy. He could tell he'd well and truly freaked him out and was a little sorry, but glad to know that Arthur now had a better grasp on the truth. The CRB didn't pose any threat, but Anthony Legates sure did.

Arthur thought for a second, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Action. Guns, car chases, fist fights... that sort of thing is just awesome," he answered, his eyes glazed over with the thought of his favourites.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Great! Thought I'd have to sit through some shitty rom-com with you," he joked, elbowing Arthur playfully.

Arthur chuckled. "Gee, thanks! Thought I made a better impression on you," he said with a grin as they walked.

"Sorry, you just struck me as the female in this relationship," Nathan joked, causing Arthur to give him a dirty look.

The older boy smiled, his eyes twinkling in the sunset. Very gently, he curled his pinkie around Arthur's.

Arthur smiled, his heart pounding in his chest. "Action, then?" he asked as they got to the cinema.

"Only if that's what you want."

Arthur smiled and they went inside. They picked up tickets for an eighteen-rated gory thriller movie, Nathan flashing a flawlessly crafted fake ID to get them in.

"What can I buy you?" Arthur asked as they waited in the cue for the food counter.

Nathan cast him an incredulous look. "I can pay for my own crap!" he insisted with a smile.

Arthur grinned. "Nathan, I really can spare a few quid for a popcorn. And you wouldn't let me buy my own ticket," he replied.

Nathan sighed and allowed Arthur to buy him popcorn and a drink before they went into the cinema to watch the film. It was good and well made, causing Arthur to jump at the scary parts and recoil at the bloody parts. Generally what he liked in a movie.

"Too scary, darling?" Nathan whispered in Arthur's ear.

Arthur smiled and nuzzled into him, feeling warm and safe when Nathan curled an arm around his shoulders. "Not at all, but I like this," he replied sweetly.

Nathan chuckled quietly and kissed the base of his neck, slowly working his way up his neck and then along his jaw.

He was making Arthur's heart race like a pounding drum. Arthur leaned into Nathan, his eyes sliding shut and a near silent moan escaping his lips.

A prickly feeling spread up the nape of his neck. Slowly, he turned his head in search of his watcher. His eyes settled on a pair almost identical to his own.

John was glaring at him, arm wound around an oblivious Jane Legates. 'You promised,' he mouthed angrily.

Arthur just shook his head and turned back to Nathan who was teasingly nibbling on his ear lobe. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked.

Arthur nodded and tried to push John from his mind, laying his head on Nathan's muscular chest. Nathan pulled him close and gently rested his chin on the top of Arthur's head. His heavy breathing tickled Arthur's ear as they watched the film, curled up in what Arthur felt was perfection.

Nathan's warm arms were as comforting to him as his parents' had been, once upon a time. Not only did he radiate heat like an electric blanket but the hard muscle of his arms, softened by his clothing was reassuring and made Arthur feel safe and secure.

Nathan kissed the top of Arthur's head and murmured jokes and compliments in his ear, never having felt so elated to have someone in his arms. Whenever Arthur jumped, he'd give him a comforting squeeze and whisper 'It's okay, sweetie,' in his ear.

Arthur had no idea whether Nathan was oblivious to John's presence or chose not to care. Either way, he now knew that Nathan wasn't shy when it came to public displays of affection.

It wasn't until later, when they were outside, night pressing down on them and making their breath visible, that Arthur realised Nathan had been very quiet since after the film. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, staring worriedly at him in the light of the gloomy street lamp.

Nathan smiled, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Course I am, darling."

"You haven't been speaking..." Arthur answered simply.

Nathan swallowed hard, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I'm sorry, I really am. Just... tired, I guess. Long night," he murmured wearily.

Arthur's throat grew tight at that. "I bet it was," he said quietly.

Nathan diverted his gaze to his shoes and took Arthur's hand in his, the warmth helping to alleviate some of the guilt he felt. "I did what I had to do," he murmured quietly, giving Arthur's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I love Lindsey, like you love John. He's far from perfect but he's the only family I have here, at home. And I don't want to go back to my mum, I have to carry on, for my dad. I'd do anything to protect Lindsey, 'cause he's always protecting me."

Arthur nodded solemnly, a sigh escaping his lips. He didn't want to be mad at Nathan or scared of him, but he couldn't just let go that now he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was a killer. Worse, he killed a defenceless old man.

"I'm really sorry."

"For what?"

"For being such an idiot," Nathan replied wearily, rubbing at his eyes again.

Arthur shook his head. "I understand. Seriously. You were protecting your brother, if it had been John I would have done the same," he replied.

"But you wouldn't have, Arthur."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

Nathan sighed and scratched at his stubbly chin. Part of him, the smart part, was telling him to shut up, to stop talking. John Emerson was well and truly caught up in the CRB, what if Arthur was, too? But he so desperately wanted to trust and be trusted by the young boy, what better way to do so than confide in him, like he needed to do? His only other option for someone to talk to was his brother and Nathan knew that would mean teasing and taunting. Lindsey religiously battered the humanity and weakness out of Nathan, physically and mentally. _A drug lord with a guilt complex is about as useless as a technophobic electrician_ he'd once said. _Toughen up, you little shit _was a much more regular phrase, though.

With a loud exhale, Nathan looked to Arthur and found he was staring back, his mind ticking over Nathan's words. "Look me in the eye and tell me that you could shoot a man in cold blood, Arthur. 'Cause it was me that pulled the trigger last night. Not Lindsey, not any of his guys, me. I don't do it much and I _really _hate it, but last night... it felt so much worse," he admitted.

The only sound Arthur made was a small _tsk _as he truly did not know what to say. Of course he couldn't shoot a man, no matter what was at stake. He knew in a moment like that, he would not physically be able to pull that trigger and there were only a few people he'd even consider it for. "It's okay, Nathan. You did what you had to do. I guess I understand," he said with a reassuring nod. Yet another reason had come along to admire this man as much as he did. There was nothing he wouldn't do to protect the people he loved.

"I saw John in there."

Arthur nodded wearily. "He's pissing me off right now. Says I shouldn't be hanging out with you whilst he tries to get in with Anthony, the stupid hypocrite."

Nathan just shook his head, tittering as he did. "I've talked to him once and already I really don't like him. What have I done to piss him off, anyway?" he asked, genuinely wanting to know now.

Arthur snorted. "Nothing. He's just intimidated by you. Thinks you'll beat me up, kill me, rape me. I was kinda hurt that he really has that little faith in me. As if I'd let someone take advantage of me like that. I know I can't bench press sixteen stones, but I'm smart," he replied angrily. One day, Arthur would show John exactly what he was capable of.

Nathan nodded and grinned. "I have faith in you, Arthur, even if that git doesn't."

Arthur felt his cheeks flush. "Thanks," he replied with a smile. "At least someone does."

"Parents pissing you off, too?"

Arthur sighed. "God, I sound like a spoilt little shit. I mean, your dad and your grandpa are dead, your mom doesn't even live here, the closest family you have is your sadistic brother and you have to deal with the fact that you could die any fucking second," he said, irritated at himself.

Nathan shook his head at Arthur's ranting. "Don't be so hard on yourself, sweetie. I'm used to my life, this is all new to you. It's okay to want to just let it out," he assured him, squeezing his hand softly.

_You could die any fucking second, _Arthur thought as he looked at Nathan, the truth in the words slowly becoming evident. Nathan really was constantly at risk and every second he spent on formalities and frivolities was a second wasted. Arthur could lose this amazing young man at any time and yet he had the nerve to whine about his own life before him.

"You said that any day could be your last. And that you want to enjoy every one."

"Yes, I did."

Arthur smiled and stopped walking. "Quick, give me a kiss."

Nathan's eyebrows shot up at his words. He didn't hesitate for a second, knowing Arthur was right. One hand still curled into Arthur's, the other twined around his neck, Nathan gently pulled him into a kiss, his lips moving sweetly and gently against his. Arthur encouraged him, drawing closer and deepening their kiss, hungry for more.

When Arthur pulled away for air, a bold, cheeky thought crossed the older boy's mind. "You know... Lindsey is away on business tonight..."

Arthur snorted. "Perhaps you're enjoying today a little too much."

Nathan laughed, shooting Arthur an apologetic look. "Worth a shot."

_**A/N: **__Hope you enjoyed! And I couldn't resist putting in those quotes from the film, sorry if they're cringy! And more action soon! I realise it's been a litte slow so far :D Don't be scared to drop a review. Let me know what you like and what you think needs improving :) S xxxx_


	7. Vile Introduction

**Vile Introduction  
**_While our blood's still young,_  
_It's so young, it runs,_  
_We won't stop 'til it's over,_  
_Won't stop to surrender,**  
**_The Temper Trap, Sweet Disposition

Just then, a figure appeared out of the shadows, pale, sunken eyes and dressed in shabby, dirty clothes. A young man, no older than thirty and definitely an addict. He was too young to look so ravaged. "Eames," the stranger said in a rasping tone.

A flicker of recognition crossed Nathan's eyes and it fast turned to distress. "Andy?" he asked, looking at the man with clear distaste. "What's happened to you?"

Andy shook his head and gulped hard. "Doesn't matter-"

"Nah, Andy. It's been years," Nathan said stubbornly. "What happened? You look like shit."

Andy's eyes narrowed as he glared down at the kid, clearly offended by his words. "Why don't you do what I've done, then we'll see how you look, pretty boy!" he snapped vilely, causing Nathan to grimace. "Look, I just need a fix. Desperately. You haven't got any crack on you, do you? Just on loan. I'd pay you back."

Nathan sighed and flattened his hair, wishing Andy would just go away and stop ruining his mood. "I'm not stupid, mate, I don't carry drugs and I certainly don't give out freebies, especially not to pathetic arseholes like you."

Andy shook his head, drawing dangerously close to Nathan. "You're just a little kid, Nathan. Why don't you do as I ask and then you can run home to your mummy?" he snapped.

Nathan rolled his eyes irritably and glanced to Arthur, giving him a reassuring nod. The ruffled young boy nodded back and stayed where he was, ready to act at a moment's notice. "Andy, you're a wreck. If you think for a second that I'm gonna sell to you-"

"It's the only thing that keeps the noises away," Andy said, sounding choked. "Please, Nathan. The voices won't be quiet unless I do the drugs." His hand was sliding for his bulging pocket and Arthur's heart was throbbing like crazy.

"You need to calm down, mate," Nathan insisted coolly, gulping hard. His eyes were darting after Andy's hand and his jaw was grinding as he thought and planned.

Andy was shaking his head, hand closing in on what Arthur was sure was a gun fast. "You need to hurry up and give me that crack, _mate," _he spat angrily, pulling the gun fast.

The adrenalin coursing through Arthur took over and he leapt forward, punching Andy hard and snatching the gun away. Andy staggered back, whimpering in pain as Arthur cocked the gun with shaking hands, pointing it straight at him. "You've already fucked up my night, no way are you fucking up my date," he said forcefully, anger and fear causing him to quake with adrenalin. He knew he wouldn't shoot, but Andy didn't. And Arthur had to look tough so that he wouldn't test it out.

Andy put his hands up in a plea of innocence. "Let's not blow this out of proportion, I just want those drugs," he said, the malice instantly dropping from his voice.

"Get walking," Arthur demanded, sounding much more powerful than he felt.

With a gulp and a whimper, Andy turned on his heel and fled, disappearing into the night in the blink of an eye. Arthur put the safety back on and let the gun clatter to the ground. He leaned back against the wall and trying to calm himself, looking to a pale Nathan for help. "You're amazing, you know that?" Nathan murmured and pulled Arthur into his arms, bringing their lips together once more.

* * *

Arthur finally felt truly initiated in Nathan's world. Now that'd he'd warded off an armed man that had a mind to harm, he felt like he almost deserved the recognition and admiration Nathan treated him with.

John had gotten mad on Saturday night when Arthur was back even later than him. He'd berated him beyond the ears of their oblivious parents and Arthur had taken it, knowing that it would happen. He wasn't entirely sure why he trusted Nathan over his brother. Perhaps he was just being entirely childish and naive.

But Nathan's golden heart and kind words always won in Arthur's mind. So many good people trusted Nathan, why shouldn't he? He knew his own judgement of character was far better than his brother's.

So, when Monday morning arrived Arthur immediately found Nathan in the quad and was welcomed with open arms by him, Shanty and Russell, quickly being introduced to the others in their social group. These were the guys that were pretty much Eames' body guards, sticking with him through the remainders of high school. They would no doubt become fully fledged members of the ring Nathan ran alongside his brother when he decided it was time to leave Bricksdale Road, which would probably be soon. Nathan had explained before that his education was something of a safety net if anything were to happen.

"Is this an official thing?" Shanty asked with a smile, gesturing to the two of them.

Nathan grinned and curled an arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him close. "If Arthur wants it to be."

Arthur's cheeks went pink and he averted his gaze to the ground, clearly nervous. They were all much broader than him and much more menacing. He was used to Nathan, but he wasn't used to eight of him in one place.

Thankfully, the attention wasn't on him for much longer. But Arthur could tell by the reaction of the group that the new subject of focus was in no way preferable.

"Jackass alert," Russell hissed, nodding at the double door entrance to the quad.

Arthur felt Nathan sigh as someone he didn't recognise strode through the door. Dark hair, cruel grey eyes and a menacing glare, the guy was quickly followed by Jane Legates, leaving Arthur with no doubt that this was the crazed, unhinged Anthony Legates.

Everyone of Nathan's friends tensed visibly, a few hands even flitting to concealed weapons. The seriousness of the gang culture that poisoned the High School never ceased to amaze Arthur. They weren't the pathetic wannabes he saw back home and on television. They were the real deal.

A groan escaped his lips when John appeared behind the Legates siblings, taking Jane's hand in his. Anthony didn't seem to care but, if Nathan was right, it was only a matter of time before the cruel man turned on Arthur's elder brother.

Nathan heard Arthur and turned to him. "It's okay, I won't let that bastard hurt him," he assured him, smiling kindly.

It was days later that the chaos started. Arthur had guessed the CRB front man would be forming some sick, convoluted plan in his head, which explained Nathan's shifty behaviour whenever he was near.

On Thursday afternoon, just after his classes had finished for the day, Arthur was walking home alone. Normally, he'd be accompanied by John, but he didn't turn up after class, so Arthur was on his own.

It had taken a bit of persuasion in terms of Nathan, too. Arthur's now official boyfriend had told him that morning about how he was driving to Cambridge to pick up Lindsey after school. There had been a mess up in the exchange the elder of the brothers was making up there and he'd been heavily wounded when the police and their dogs got involved.

When John didn't show up that afternoon, Nathan had offered to drive Arthur home, despite knowing it would make him late for his brother. Arthur had refused and pointed out he could walk home on his own.

Arthur couldn't have made a worse decision.

As he walked, he became aware of a presence behind him. He turned his head, his eyes coming to a rest on a bulky teenage boy, clothed in the blood red hoody of the CRB. _Great, _Arthur thought as a second, similarly dressed guy stepped out of the alley before him. He stepped to the side and continued to walk. That was, until Anthony Legates was blocking his path. Arthur jumped backwards, his heart pounding as he did. Anthony was the only one of the three that didn't have a hood concealing his face and he was glaring down at Arthur, cold, mean eyes burning into him.

"Well, well, well. We trapped the fairy, boys!" he said with a snort, advancing slowly on Arthur, who was two years his junior, half a foot shorter and masses lighter. "Now, to pull off his wings."

Arthur gasped as Anthony shoved him back into the wall. His head cracked sharply off the cinderblocks, causing stars to cloud his vision and pain to take over his thoughts. His breath was catching in his dry throat and he couldn't think clearly. Anthony's face pressed closer, his handsome features twisted into a mask of contempt and disgust. His breath stank of cigarette smoke and beer.

Arthur looked him dead in the eye, snarl on his face as he desperately tried to think of an escape. Anthony's knee barred any movement in his lower body, his arm pressed hard against Arthur's chest, pinning his arms to the wall and making it impossibly hard to breathe. "This'll make you think twice before getting in with the wrong sort, you faggot," Anthony snarled, flexing his wrist in a well practiced way. Arthur gulped when he saw the knife blade, glinting in the dying sunlight. The area was too secluded and quiet, he had no hope of a random saviour coming to his aid. Anthony had him incapacitated, so brute force (not that he'd win) was out of the question, too.

"Stop it," an all too familiar voice snapped. One of Anthony's backups was speaking, letting their hood down as they did.

"John?" Arthur whimpered.

Anthony sighed. "We went over this, Emerson! I won't kill him, I just want to teach him a lesson. He's disgusting, ain't he? All his type are," he snarled.

John grabbed the arm Anthony was using to wield the knife and was shoved back roughly, blade coming too close to his throat for comfort. "Anthony, stop. Please. He's my brother. I agree, he shouldn't have gotten on Eames' side, but he hasn't done anything worthy of this," John insisted darkly, glaring down Anthony.

Anthony actually smirked, slowly backing off of Arthur and staring at John. "Alright," he drawled, bemused. He sniggered, his eyes flickering between the brothers for what felt like hours.

Arthur had never felt so relieved in his life when he could breathe properly. He gulped down the cool air like there was no tomorrow. But he could tell this wasn't over, the evil glint in Anthony's eyes meant that by no means was he getting off so easily. "I'm not going to hurt the little gay boy... you are!" Anthony said with a grin.

Arthur's heart thumped and stuttered as he took in the words. "What?" John asked, his eyes wide.

Anthony's white teeth were bared as he pressed close to the older Emerson brother, his grin betraying his glee and self-satisfaction. "You heard me, John. You are going to beat your brother to within an inch of his life, I am going to watch. If either of you object, I'll blow _both _of your brains out. And Jane won't get off too easily, either. See, when I get mad, she's quite a convenient punch bag," he said gleefully, pulling a heavy hand gun from his pocket and raising it to John's temple. "What do you say, John? You know full well that I mean it."

"You sick bastard," Arthur snapped, his eyes flitting between his brother, the gun and Anthony. He even looked to the other boy for help, but he remained emotionless and obliging. Arthur couldn't say he blamed him, Anthony had him scared witless.

John went pale. "Do what you like to me, Anthony, but if you lay a finger on Arthur or Jane..."

Anthony laughed a humourless cackle, haunting and corrupt. "You're not going to be much use to your darling brother or my dear sister if you keep up the brave talk, sweetheart!" he jibed, cocking the gun.

"John, just do it." the other boy said. "No one needs to die."

"Stay out of it!" John quipped.

"John," Arthur said, his voice trembling. "Go on and do it. For both our sakes and for Jane."

John had never looked so scared in his life. He was shaking, his lip quivering and his eyes threatening to spill over with tears. "Why don't you listen to our friends, John? Just do what I taught you and it'll only take a few minutes!" Anthony insisted, hysteric giggling creeping into his voice.

The guy was insane, Arthur had no doubt about it. He knew that if John didn't beat him up, they'd both be dead. "John..."

With shaking hands, John pulled his sleeves up to his elbows. He replaced his hood, not wanting to have to look into Arthur's eyes as he carried out their only escape. If he tried to pull anything, he'd have a bullet in his skull, he knew that much. "I'm so sorry, Arthur," he said as he drew closer to his little brother.

"It's okay, man. Just make it quick," Arthur replied, his voice trembling.

With tears in his eyes and a gun trained on the back of his head, John started landing the blows, tuning out Arthur's agonised cries.

_**A/N: **__Now you've met Anthony, I'd love to know what you think! Lindsey should be appearing soon, too. Something that's come to my attention is that I've been confusing people (Not a surprise, really. My head is a weird and wonderful place!) so if you have anything you're confused about, PM me and I'll do my best to explain without spoiling the whole story! As always, if you could write a quick review, that'd be lovely! S xxxxxx_


	8. The Brothers

**The Brothers  
**_I never loved nobody fully,  
Always one foot on the ground,  
And by protecting my heart truly,  
__I got lost in the sounds,_  
Regina Spektor, Fidelity

After what felt like hours of agonising darkness, Arthur's eyes peeled open, blinking rapidly in the horribly bright room. In slow motion, he lifted his head and looked around.

Everything was bright and sterile, the walls lined with medical supplies and the sickening stench of disinfectant hung in the air. In the far corner of the small private room was John, slumping in an uncomfortable looking chair, brown eyes fixed on Arthur.

The brothers stared at each other for a second, slowly taking in the other's state. John's dark red hoody was splattered with blood and his hands were battered, bruised and gory, too. Arthur looked like he'd been out through hell. His face and body was black and blue and his head was pounding. "You punched me into hospital? Good going, bro," Arthur snapped dryly, letting his head fall back to the pillows.

There was a second of icy silence. "You'd rather have died?" John questioned sharply, his voice crackly and croaky. Guilt weighed on him like a sack of bricks and was threatening to crush him. "'Cause Anthony would have shot both of us if I hadn't done what he said."

"Not the point," Arthur cut across angrily. "This is all your fault. You were the one that got onto Legates' side, just so you could get some girl."

John went pale, conflicting anger and guilt making it hard for him to know what to say. "Some girl? She's more than just some girl, Arthur. If anything, this is your fault-"

"Cut the crap, John. You're seriously suggesting this is my fault? I haven't done a damned thing aside for find someone who actually gives a shit about me," Arthur pointed out, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

John scoffed, standing up and starting to pace. "Like I don't give a shit about you, Arthur? I've been here for something like five hours, I called in Mom and Dad, heck, I even called in your god damned boyfriend who started all this!" he quipped angrily.

Arthur just about snapped. He sat up to glare at his brother with pure contempt. "Get off your high horse, you have no one to blame for this but yourself. Don't blame me or Nathan or even Anthony, you brought this on us," he told him in a dangerously quiet voice. "You got in with the wrong guys, John. Nathan cares about me. He's a genuinely good guy, as is his gang. Anthony is a raging psychopath that will pull a knife to you if you _ever _step over the line."

John grimaced. "Well, I'm just gonna have to keep my head down, then. No way in hell am I breaking up with Jane and if I have to be Anthony's bitch... fine," he said quietly, sitting back down. He cradled his face in his hands, fingers combing desperately through his dark hair.

"You're fucking insane..." Arthur muttered. He took a gulp of the water on his bedside table just as a nurse walked in with a plastic cup in hand.

"You're looking perkier, Mr Emerson," she said with a sympathetic smile, handing the cup over.

Arthur glanced inside and saw painkillers rolling about in the bottom. He downed them with another gulp of water and handed the cup back to the nurse. "Thanks... and call me Arthur," he said with a kind smile.

She nodded. "Well, you're in a nasty state, Arthur. And the police have a few questions they'd like to ask you. Your parents are in the cafe downstairs, to my understanding, as we have a strict one visitor policy in this ward. Then again, we _could_ make an allowance for the questioning if you'd like them there," she explained.

With a sigh, Arthur shook his head. "Nah, it's okay. I can answer a few questions without them," he insisted, the aching pain in his body dulling slightly.

"Okay, then. I'll just fetch the policeman," she told him before walking out.

Arthur leaned back into his pillows when she was gone. "Well fucking done, John. Could have at least made it look like an accident," he reprimanded, to which he got no reply other than a weary groan.

"Excuse me, sir, but we have a strict one visitor pol-" came the voice of the female nurse outside Arthur's room.

"Not in my case, sweetheart," came Nathan's slick, accented voice.

Arthur had never been so relieved to hear that voice in his life. Sitting here with John was nothing short of unbearable. He could only imagine what was being exchanged outside that would allow Nathan to surpass the rules. A suggestive wink, a flash of a knife, a little cash. But it came as no surprise that whatever it was worked, because soon, Nathan was opening the door.

His face went pale at the sight of Arthur, bruised and bloodied. When inside the door, he actually leant against the wall for a second, eyes closed and breathing heavy. Arthur could tell he was doing his damned hardest not to lose it completely.

As Nathan tried to maintain his composure, two other men walked in behind him. The first was casually dressed and looked strikingly similar to Nathan and the second was clothed in a cop uniform.

The former man, Arthur realised, was Lindsey Cooper, Nathan's older half brother. No older than twenty five, he was tall and surprisingly lean but the strength was definitely there, despite his left shoulder being heavily bandaged. No doubt from the run in he'd had with the Cambridge police. Lindsey was strikingly attractive with dirty blonde hair that forever threatened to fall into his bright blue eyes. His full pink lips curled into a devilish smirk at the sight of the policeman and it struck Arthur that he looked very young, just with a dangerous edge. But the boyish looks didn't fool him for a second, both John and himself had heard the stories about this violent sadist.

"I'd be lying if I said it was a pleasure to see you again, Mr Cooper," the policeman drawled as he pulled a chair up to Arthur's bedside.

Lindsey pulled a shark-like grin, similar to his brother's, his blue eyes glinting dangerously. "Nice to see you too, Constable," he replied. "I haven't seen you or your precious family in awhile. How's little Sophie? Out of the hospita-"

"Alright, Lindsey, that's enough," came the voice of Nathan, who was shaking his head. "Can we just focus on Arthur, please?"

Lindsey glared at his little brother but otherwise kept quiet, pulling his bomber jacket tighter around him. "Nice to meet you, Arthur. Heard all about you," he said with a nod.

Arthur nodded back. "Right back at you," he replied shakily. Judging by the tone in Lindsey's voice, little Sophie hadn't been in hospital due to natural causes, which sent shivers down his spine.

"Hey, Arthur. I'm Constable Ingram. Your brother brought you here in a right state a few hours ago. Mind telling me what happened? Maybe then we can find the people that did this to you, bring them to justice." the constable offered with a kind smile.

Arthur gulped hard, his eyes darting between the policeman, his trembling brother and his seething boyfriend. "I'm sorry, sir. It's a total black out. Last thing I can remember is finishing school," he lied smoothly, hoping he could cover his brother's tracks.

Constable Ingram sighed and reached for the nurse's clipboard attached to the end of Arthur's bed. He flicked through the pages for a second, drawing his conclusions before turning back to Arthur. "According to this, there's absolutely no damage to your head that could result in memory loss."

"He passed out, black outs can cause memory loss," John piped up. Nathan cast him a deadly glare and Arthur could tell he already had his suspicions.

"There is absolutely no need to protect whoever did this, Arthur," the constable replied. "Maybe your visitors should step outside."

"I don't know anything, sir, except that it had nothing to do with them," Arthur said sharply, gesturing to his three visitors.

The policeman looked taken aback. "Okay, Arthur. Please, if you remember anything, come to me," he replied, offering Arthur a business card.

"I'd actually really appreciate it if you just dropped the case," Arthur said firmly.

Ingram stood slowly, shaking his head at the bloodied teenager. "You kids shouldn't have to cope with stuff like this," he reasoned.

"I'm not having to cope with anything, sir. For all I know, I could have fallen down the stairs. And I'm not a kid, either."

Nathan raised his head, holding Arthur's gaze without faltering. "You heard him, Constable," he said boldly.

Ingram sighed and stepped towards the door. "I just want what's best for him, Eames, same as you," he assured him softly.

"Get walking," Lindsey demanded sharply, his cold blue eyes glaring at Ingram like he could see right into him.

Ingram grimaced at Lindsey before storming out, disappearing down the corridor in seconds. "Thanks," Arthur said with a weak smile.

Lindsey nodded. "Anytime," he said.

There was a second of awkward silence as Nathan continued to work hard on keeping calm and Arthur battled down the aching pain in his bruised body.

Then the nurse came back in, shooting Nathan and Lindsey a disapproving glance as she did so. She was carrying another pill cup. "I was wondering if I could get you anything to help you sleep?" she offered kindly. "It's getting quite late."

Arthur nodded. "I was actually wondering when I'd be discharged," he replied, much to John's shock.

"Well, with a good night's sleep, we could discharge you tomorrow morning. But we do want to keep you here overnight, just to make sure you don't take a turn for the worse. As far as we can tell, there's no internal damage, just flesh wounds," she said honestly.

Arthur smiled. "Thank you. I'll take that sleeping pill, I've got a wicked headache," he said.

The nurse returned his smile and handed the cup over before walking out. "Arthur..." Nathan began wearily.

"Nathan, we're both exhausted. I'll speak to you tomorrow morning, yeah?" Arthur offered weakly.

Nathan just sighed and nodded as Arthur raised the cup to his lips and downed the pill. It was only a matter of minutes before he was out for the count.

Then, Nathan found he couldn't just take this. "Who did it?" he asked John sharply.

The elder Emerson brother raised his head, still stuck in a daze. He discreetly pulled his sleeves over his torn knuckles and gulped hard as Nathan's gaze burned into him. "I don't-"

"You heard him, CRB scum. _Who did it?" _Lindsey demanded in a dangerously quiet tone.

Nathan sighed. "It was Anthony, wasn't it?" he asked quietly.

John was silent for a second as he chose his words carefully. The stories he'd heard about Lindsey were enough to make the bravest person shiver and John knew he wasn't brave. "Not directly," he admitted, staring into the corner of the room, away from the brothers.

Lindsey rolled his eyes in a withering fashion, slowly losing what little patience he possessed. "Care to tell us what happened?" he said with a sigh.

"Calm down, mate," Nathan reprimanded his brother. The situation was delicate and intimidating John would just make Arthur mad.

John finally looked to them, knowing Nathan's calm eyes were sugar coating the true anger he felt. "You're not gonna like this," he said, pulling away his sleeves to show his red knuckles.

Nathan swallowed hard, feeling his head automatically go from side to side. "You little shit," he muttered, his fists clenched and his mind thinking about every single hidden weapon in his clothing.

"Let me explain!" John whimpered. "I'm an asshole, okay? Anthony told me he wanted to teach Arthur a lesson. He's the most homophobic dickhead I've ever encountered but I said okay because next he'd have been threatening Jane. We catch Arthur and next thing I know, Anthony has a knife out. I tell him to stop and he makes me beat up Arthur instead, otherwise we were both dead. I swear on Arthur's life I didn't do it voluntarily, Nathan."

Nathan grimaced at John. "You stupid piece of shit. You seriously thought Anthony was just going to teach your little brother _a lesson? _The guy is a fucking psychopath, he'd have carved Arthur's stomach out!" he quipped angrily.

Lindsey's phone blared and he opened the message that popped up, scanning its contents quickly. "Well, Legates is on a spree! He's got Russell and Rosie cornered down by the cineplex. Wanna lend them a hand?"

Nathan groaned. "Yeah, I'll call in a few favours."

Lindsey raised an eyebrow and waved his phone at John "What about this little shit?" he asked his brother.

Without a second of hesitation, Nathan kneed John hard in the stomach, satisfied by the way the boy crumpled over, wheezing and whimpering. "Now the pawn's out the game, time to capture the king," he told his brother.

Lindsey smirked. "No compassion, no mercy. I've taught you well, little brother," he said, clapping Nathan on the back before going to the door.

_**A/N:** Angry boyfriend alert! I'd love to know what you think of this chapter, also the new characters. As ever, if you could drop me a review, that'd be lovely :D Stay awesome, guys! S xxxx_


	9. Bloody Vengeance

**Bloody Vengeance  
**_Yes I am prepared,  
To stay alive,  
I won't forgive, the vengeance is mine,  
And I won't give in,  
Because I choose to thrive  
_Muse, Survival

Russell had never sent a text so quickly in his entire life. Lindsey was far more likely to be in the area than Nathan, he could only hope he decided to help. He didn't have time to text Nathan now, the CRB would take is phone.

He hadn't counted on the back door of the nightclub being locked when he lead Rosie down the alley. Now the CRB were closing in and he had no route of escape. If he was with Shanty, they wouldn't have to hesitate, they could mow down four arseholes in seconds. But with Rosie, it was a different story. He would have to protect and fight simultaneously to get out of this, or at least survive until Lindsey got here.

Russell desperately smashed at the nightclub's back entrance but to no avail. It wasn't going to budge and, with the noise that was radiating through the walls, no one was going to hear. Rosie stared on as Anthony Legates himself approached. She'd never been so scared in her life. What had been a sweet date had fast deteriorated into her worst nightmare.

"Hey, sweetie," Anthony drawled as he drew up before them, grinning maliciously at Rosie as he brushed a few hairs from her pretty, round face.

"Don't touch her," Russell barked, praying to God that Lindsey would hurry up and bring help. What Russell wouldn't give to have Shanty here right now.

Anthony laughed cruelly, his stormy grey eyes burning into Russell's own blue ones. "What you gonna do, Jesus-freak? Gonna pray to the big man in the sky? Gonna ask him to enlighten me? Love thy neighbour and all that shit," he mocked, earning howls of laughter from his friends.

Rosie smacked the pathetic boy hard, watching in satisfaction as he cried out, cradling his cheek in his hand. "Don't you dare make fun of him, you pathetic bastard. He's twice the man you are," she snapped sharply.

No sooner had the words come out than Anthony shoved her up against the wall. Russell screeched in protest as two of the CRB restrained him. "C'mon, sweetheart," Anthony murmured, pressing unbearably close to Rosie, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Why don't you come back to my place? I'll show you what a real man can do," he offered, his tone mocking and sour.

"You're disgusting," Rosie spat, his disgusting scent hitting the back of her throat and making her want to gag. "You say you're a real man, Anthony, but I only have to look at you to know you're an arsehole."

Russell's heart was throbbing as he desperately tried to formulate a plan. They had him knelt on the ground, arms constrained and forced to watch as Anthony threatened Rosie, who was giving it back twice as hard as she got. She was too small to escape Anthony but her fighting spirit was larger than life. Russell had never felt more attracted to a girl.

There was the sound of footsteps and panting and one of the CRB yelped "Anthony!" before Lindsey appeared out of nowhere and yanked him off Rosie, punching him in the jaw. Anthony staggered back, whimpering in agony as Nathan and at least four others arrived. Lindsey roughly shoved Anthony back into the wall before seeing that Rosie was okay, his anger subsiding as he checked over the young girl. Just then, Russell spotted Shanty. "Mate," he whimpered, pulling his best friend into a bear hug.

"Don't I feel special?" Nathan joked with a grin, rapping his arms around his two embracing friends.

The CRB scarpered, sprinting for downtown as their pursuers paused to catch their breath and greet each other.

Lindsey was crouched over Rosie's weeping form and for once, her pain didn't excite him. "It's okay, darling. We'll get him, don't you worry," he assured her, gently wiping away her tears. Someone cleared their throat behind him and he straightened up, turning to see Russell watching Rosie worriedly. With a small sigh, Lindsey stepped aside. "C'mon, we don't want to lose them."

"You coming, Russell?" Shanty asked.

Russell pulled Rosie into a quick hug before saying "Definitely," with a forced smile. "You go on home, Rosie."

With one look back at Rosie, Lindsey sprinted on, pulling his brother with him. Their three guys followed as they headed for downtown, closing in on the CRB. Once assured that Rosie would be safe, Russell ran after them, Shanty at his side.

As Lindsey Cooper ran, all compassion he had felt moments before parted his system, replaced by pure adrenaline and glee. As his feet pounded on the tar road, pushing him forward, the all too familiar excitement set in. It was five minutes of hard sprinting before they caught up with the CRB, all of whom were doubled over and gasping for air in a deserted, pitch black street of a council estate. It must have been nearing midnight.

Nathan's gang descended on the CRB without the smallest warning. The four members of the CRB fought valiantly but only Anthony posed any sort of threat against their opponents. They were incapacitated before Shanty and Russell even caught up. Not the fairest of fights in reality, with four grown men and Nathan versus three inexperienced teenagers and Anthony. But Anthony had never been fair, not on Arthur and John, not on Russell and Rosie, why should Nathan be fair on him?

Nathan was panting and grinning when Shanty and Russell caught up with him, looking fairly deflated when they saw they missed the brawl. "Aw, c'mon! You couldn't have left us _someone, _could you have?" Shanty moaned, shoving Nathan playfully.

A few metres away, Lindsey had Anthony cornered, long, bony fingers curled around a dainty, vicious knife.

Lindsey pressed close to Anthony, his eyes sliding shut as he spoke with such venom he was sending shivers of pleasure down his own back. "If I had my way, Legates, this pretty little number would slice you to wafer thin pieces, hear me?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the trembling teenager's forehead and knife grazing at his upper arm. "You're lucky that I'm not getting my way tonight, sweetie. My little brother is going to beat you to a pulp. And if you _ever_ dare to hurt anyone I consider family again, whether it be Nathan's boyfriend or his best friends, I'll knock him out and have my _own_ way with you. And I'll love every second of it whilst you scream and cry. No one will hear a god damned thing-"

"Lindsey!" Nathan barked from down the street.

The older brother glanced over his shoulder. "Where do you want this little shit, Eamesy?" he asked with a chilling grin, his hand curling around Anthony's neck. His own men had Anthony's three boys knelt on the road, arms pulled so far behind their backs it looked scream worthy. One had been dealt such a beating he was spitting blood.

A humourless smirk lit Nathan's face as he pulled of his hoody, leaving his muscular, tattooed arms in plain sight. "Just somewhere that makes him easy to smack senseless," he replied.

In a move so fast you could blink and miss it, Lindsey yanked Anthony around and slammed him to the ground on the deserted road, between Nathan and the CRB members.

Anthony whimpered as he collided with the ground. He wasn't sure who scared him more, the infuriated Eames or the sadistic Cooper.

"Get up!" Lindsey cried in Anthony's ear, yanking him to his feet with superhuman strength that shouldn't be possible of a man so lean. But this was Lindsey, when he got in this sort of good mood he was capable of amazing feats. He all but dragged the whimpering boy to Nathan's feet. "This one just needs a little lesson in respecting his superiors, Nath. We despise people like you, Anty, people who think they're hard. You think you're a man but when you come across people like us, you're just a scared little boy," Lindsey drawled, hysterical giggles breaking into his voice.

Nathan knew his brother's dangerous side was creeping through but he was so infuriated at Anthony that he couldn't care less. "Hate to spoil your fun, darling, but I'm gonna give him the benefit of the doubt. I'm going to make this fair. Me on him, one on one, no interference," he proclaimed.

Lindsey cocked his head to the side, like a dumb dog that was confused. Quite frankly, no one was surprised. In this sort of mood, Lindsey was more animal than human. "Alrighty..." he muttered, stepping back to stand by Shanty and Russell, who visibly tensed.

Anthony stood before Nathan, looking like he hadn't slept in all his eighteen years. He blinked hard in an attempt to clear his vision.

"Wake up, you little shit. I'm making this fair for you. Be grateful, you deserve so much worse. You can't threaten my friends and walk away unharmed. And you _definitely_ can't force one of your own to beat up his own brother, _my _boyfriend and get away with it. Consider this..." Nathan trailed off, drawing closer to Anthony with his voice seething with venom. "Payback, I guess."

Anthony shook himself awake harshly, shedding his hoody. The cool night air brought it's needle sharp fingers down his neck, causing him to shiver all over. "Let's do this, you whiny bitch."

Nathan scoffed and took a half step back before swinging at Anthony with all his force. Anthony dodged the worst of the blow but Nathan's fist collided with his left hip and he whimpered as he jumped back. He knew he was done for, but he wasn't going to stand and take it. With a gulp, he brought up his guard, dodging Nathan's punches with varying degrees of success.

Fury coursed through Nathan as he kicked Anthony in the gut and punched him in the jaw. The older boy fell to the ground, whimpering and weeping. "Up, get up!" Nathan snapped angrily, dragging Anthony to his feet.

Nathan started landing his blows with perfect speed, precision and force, like a machine. Anthony simpered and howled, not even trying to fight back and concentrating solely on defending himself. He thought he might be able to hold out as Nathan worked his anger out of his system but that was not the case. Nathan wasn't going to tire and he certainly wasn't going to calm.

Sharp, agonising punches and kicks were all Anthony could feel for what felt like hours. Every time Nathan struck him, a new wave of pain lashed through him, making him cry out and writhe. What made it all worse was that he _had _to stay on his feet. Every time he fell, he was screamed at to get up, to keep going.

Nathan was all fury as he beat Anthony mercilessly, Lindsey grinning maliciously from the side lines. Anthony's screams and cries were like music to the psychopath's ears as he giggled with giddiness, so wanting to just jump in and finish his brother's work.

Lindsey's behaviour was setting Russell and Shanty's teeth on edge. It wasn't the first time they'd seen him like this but it didn't get any easier, watching a fully grown man giggle and snigger in pleasure as his own brother pounded a mere teenager to a pulp.

It was when Anthony's nose broke and he started spitting out teeth that Shanty wanted to run forward and stop Nathan. This had gone too far, he could see that now. But Nathan's anger wasn't faltering and it had been very clear that no one was to interfere. So Shanty clutched at his best friend for support as he chewed at his nails, unable to look away. He'd seen Nathan do this before. Three times. Twice, he'd hospitalised his victims. The third time, the victim, his father's murderer, died from brain damage.

And Russell, Russell was in a world of his own, praying and weeping silently.

"Stop! Please, Eames, stop!" Anthony cried at last.

Anthony was a bloody mess, nose shattered, teeth missing, gashes all over his face and bruises already forming. Nathan swallowed hard and stepped back, his eyes going wide at the sight of Anthony. He became aware of a twinge in his hands as the anger and adrenaline slowly fizzled out.

When he looked down, he saw his knuckles were a mess, torn and bloody. "What have I done?" he muttered silently.

_**A/N:**__ I really hope you enjoyed that! And sorry it took so long :L Please let me know what you think with a review, that'd be lovely! S xxxx_


	10. Poker Games

**Poker Games**  
_Blaming everything on me is that,_  
_the way you get your kicks and your thrills,_  
_You should spare a little time for your mind and then your body and soul,_  
_You act a little crazy but I know you've got it under control,_  
The View, Grace

"That went too far."

"Shut up, Shanty," Lindsey snapped angrily.

Shanty looked taken aback as he leaned into the backseat of the car. "Nathan, you broke his nose, knocked out half his teeth, if that isn't too far, what is?" he demanded boldly.

Lindsey's foot edged down on the accelerator as his anger escalated, already regretting driving them home. Nathan sat next to him, nursing his bloody hands and not making a sound. Russell was behind him, his head nodding in his exhausted stupor. "Nothing is too far with kids like him," Lindsey insisted icily.

Shanty grimaced with contempt. He'd never liked Lindsey, was never surprised by his outrageous behaviour, but Lindsey never failed to disgust him with the stuff he said. "That's exactly what he is. A kid. The guy is eighteen and an immature eighteen at that, he needed to be taught a lesson, not have his face scrambled," he pointed out sourly.

"Last time I checked, Arthur was sixteen and he got dealt a beating just as bad as Anthony's."

"Shanty... know when to back down, yeah?" Nathan suggested wearily. He didn't want Lindsey to lose it with his friend, that was the last thing he needed tonight.

"Why don't you listen up, you prick? I call the shots around here, not you, alright?" Lindsey quipped.

"Nathan calls the shots," Russell piped up unexpectedly, his speech slurred and blank with exhaustion. "Nathan is Nathaniel Eames' only kid, it's his business. You're not an Eames, you're just some hotshot who thinks he owns the place."

Lindsey's foot slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a halt, Russell's head cracking off the window painfully in the process. "Do you seriously want to do this?" he asked crudely, glaring at them in the rear view mirror.

With a groan, Nathan turned on his brother. "They're right. I call the shots. So shut up, all three of you," he snapped irritably. "Just take me home, mate. I need a kip."

The older brother's lips curled into a snarl as he obliged, driving on once more. "There's some stuff that needs taking care of, so we need to have a little _get together _tomorrow afternoon. After you're done with your bloody school, of course," he said blankly.

Nathan nodded and let that be the end to all conversation.

* * *

"Are you kidding me?" Nathan asked in disbelief when Arthur sat down next to him the next morning in Media Studies.

Arthur snorted. "They discharged me this morning and I was fit to go to school, don't see why not. Besides, Jane felt bad and used all this girly stuff on my face and I don't look half bad," he explained quietly.

Nathan shook his head, smiling slightly. "Only you, Arthur," he muttered. Arthur was right, Jane had pretty much covered every bruise and scar. There were some marks the makeup didn't cover entirely but it didn't really matter. It looked like he got into a fight, not like he'd been beaten up.

"She's actually really nice when you get past the sluttish, over confident exterior, I'm kinda glad John has her," Arthur admitted with a half smile.

Nathan sighed. "Even if it leads to you being beat up?"

"There's no one to blame here except for Anthony, okay? Speaking of said dickhead, I haven't seen him today," Arthur admitted, his brow furrowing in confusion.

When Nathan was silent, Arthur's confusion turned to comprehension, then bitterness. "What did you do to him, Nathan?" he hissed quietly as the teacher walked in.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Nathan replied casually.

The teacher, Miss Forsyth, a young, strict looking woman set her books down on her desk and glanced around the room with her keen black eyes. "Hoodies off," she said briskly to no one in particular and about half a dozen kids irritably obliged.

It was when Nathan was unzipping his own hoody that the sleeves of his strategic long sleeved t-shirt slipped to unveil his bruised, scarred knuckles. And Arthur could tell just how new these marks were. He threw Nathan an incredulous look before turning back to the teacher.

"Today we're going to look at how the media, for example, films, music, TV, newspapers, et cetera influence and change your view of the world, politically and philosophically," Miss Forsyth began, sounding surprisingly animated today.

Arthur sat through the whole class, trying to concentrate and take in the teacher's words. But all he could think about was what had happened last night, Anthony's absence, Nathan's ravaged knuckles. It all added up to one horrible and inevitable conclusion that sent small shivers down Arthur's spine.

As the day wore on, Arthur became increasingly aware of the others' shifty behaviour. Russell and Rosie were incredibly quiet, Shanty wouldn't even look at Nathan and even Nathan wasn't on top form. Gone was the cheeky banter, the puppy dog eyes, the smile that outshone the brightest star. He seemed withdrawn, ashamed, guilty.

At lunch, Shanty sat down in his usual seat beside Russell, opposite Nathan and Arthur. He put his plate down on the table and began eating without a single word.

It was minutes of edgy silence before someone spoke up. This behaviour was setting Arthur's teeth on edge. "Alright, knock it off. What the hell's going on?"

Shanty looked up, his moss green eyes void of their usual glint. "Go on, Nathan, tell Arthur about how you tore up Anthony's face," he remarked slyly, throwing his best friend an unsavoury glance.

"I figured that much," Arthur muttered in anguish. "C'mon, guys, I hate seeing you like this."

Nathan glowered at Shanty. "What would you have had me do?" he asked sharply, blue eyes burning into Shanty's.

"I'm just saying I think you threw a few too many punches this time round. He just needed a little lesson and you were too violent. He could be in hospital for all we know. You went too far and Russell agrees," Shanty put across, his eyes flickering menacingly.

Russell looked up, bewildered. "Do I, now?"

"Let's just drop this, okay? Nothing's going to come of it. Anthony's not stupid enough to retaliate or press charges," Nathan pointed out irritably.

Shanty gave a withering eye roll and returned to his food, picking at the pasta without really eating.

It was near silence for what seemed like ever between the four of them, all pretending to eat but really not being in the mood. "Remember about after school, yeah?" Nathan reminded them quietly.

"What's going on after school?" Arthur asked, doing his best to initiate a conversation.

"There's stuff that needs sorting out at our warehouse, Lindsey called a meeting," Nathan explained with a kindly smile. "Normally we just get it done and spend the rest of the night drinking and gambling."

The other's perked up at the mention of what was to come. "Sounds fun," Arthur added, a grin lighting his eyes. "Mind if I tag along?"

Nathan considered this for a second, looking at his friends as he did so. "Sure thing. No reason not to."

* * *

After a half hour of talking between Nathan, Lindsey and some massive guys Arthur didn't recognise, the fun pretty much started in the supposedly abandoned warehouse. Lindsey was looking as imposing as ever, clothed in dark colours and a villainous smirk on his lips.

"You're looking a right side better, Arthur," he said with a slippery grin when he pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket.

Arthur grinned back in a somewhat more civil manner than the man before him. "The miracles of the shit girls put on their faces," he supplied.

Lindsey guffawed. "I thought your skin tone was immaculately balanced," he said, causing Arthur to chuckle. "Poker?"

With a quick think about just how much money he had in his wallet, Arthur nodded, allowing Lindsey to lead him to one of the plastic tables set up. "I assume you know how to play?" Lindsey asked as he dealt the cards.

"Bro, I've been winning my brother's pocket money since I was five," Arthur said confidently.

"Is that a threat?" Lindsey joked as he picked up his own hand.

"You'd better hope not."

Then, they started. Unsurprisingly, Lindsey wasn't scared to take risks. Within minutes, people were grouping around them, gazing in awe as the stacks of money got higher and higher. They even started betting on the winner. Nathan and Shanty were busy betting on one of them when Lindsey realised he was out of money.

"Mate, I'm bust," he told Arthur with a smirk. "So... I raise you this little beauty."

To everyone's surprise, Lindsey pulled a red die from his pocket, dotted with white. A casino dice. "It's weighted. It'll win you any match."

Arthur grinned and reached for his wallet, putting another five pounds on the table.

The stakes were getting unbearably high and Arthur remained confident in his hand. Not to mention he wanted that die badly. So badly, he pulled his bank cards out of his Diesel wallet and lay the gorgeous Italian leather on the table before his opponent.

Lindsey's eyes sparked at that. Then he realised it was his turn. His shoulders went up and down when he realised he didn't have anything else.

Arthur smirked and looked under the table, his eyes resting on Lindsey's slick designer trainers. "I like your kicks," he remarked with a grin, earning peals of laughter from the onlookers.

"Seriously? You want these? Mate, they smell like something died in them."

"They'll wash."

Lindsey narrowed his eyes, a sly grin lighting his eyes. "I'm folding," he explained, putting his cards down on the table for everyone to see.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and put his cards down too, a slow grin spreading across his lips when he realised his hand was one better than Lindsey's. Cheers and growls came from those watching as the two of them shook hands and Arthur pocketed his winnings, the red dice rolling in his finger tips.

"I am in love with this boy!" A tipsy Shanty proclaimed as he slung an arm around Arthur's shoulders. "Even Nathan can't beat Lindsey at poker!" he cried with a grin.

As evening turned into night, men Arthur didn't even know congratulated him and offered him drinks. Arthur stuck with a few beers and, as the others got increasingly intoxicated, won a little more money off those who weren't so smart.

After winning about five hundred pounds in total, Arthur decided to call it a night. Nathan was too drunk for driving so Arthur called a cab and said his farewells.

It wasn't until he got home that his slightly buzzed mood was spoiled. His parents were up, waiting for him. And boy, they didn't look happy.

_**A/N:** I know it took forever and I'm so sorry! Crazy week! Not to mention Saturday night TV is pretty awesome right now :D I really hope you enjoyed and if you could take a second to review, that'd be pretty damn awesome! Also, how do you like my version of the red die's backstory? S xxxxx_


	11. An Offer

**A****n**** Offer**  
_What if I say I'm not like the others?_  
_What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?_  
_You're the pretender_  
_What if I say I will never surrender?  
_Foo Fighters, Pretender**  
**

"Arthur, we wanted to have a word with you," Mr Emerson said as his youngest son entered the living room.

"What about?" Arthur asked politely, sitting down on the armchair nearest the piping fireplace.

His parents were sitting on the sofa opposite him, doing the odd, sitting-very-close-and-holding-hands routine he'd so often seen on crappy Drama shows when the parents have 'serious chats' with their kids. He knew what was coming. "It's about the... company you're keeping," his mother began.

Arthur sighed and witheringly pushed a hand through his dark brown curls, convinced they'd go grey and start falling out any day now. "What's John been saying?" he asked wearily.

His father looked away, brown eyes narrowing as he squinted out of the floor length windows. Night had fallen on London and the city skyline cast a wondrous glow on the land. "Well, nothing. It's just that things seemed to have started going downhill for you since you met these new people you hang around with," he replied worriedly, turning his gaze back to his incredulous son.

"Thank you for your concern but I really never have been happier," Arthur assured them as politely as he could, despite his annoyance.

"Arthur, last night John called us into hospital. That boy, Nathan, was there hours later. He looks like a real thug, the sort with a short temper," Mrs Emerson pointed out, a cold edge to her voice.

Arthur scoffed for a second, taking in what his mother was implying. "You think Nathan did that?" he snapped. "You think I'd allow myself to be subject to domestic abuse? Mom, that was just a few assholes that had something against him and wanted to hit him where it hurt. Me."

John chose that exact second to enter the room, almost immediately regretting it as he listened to his little brother talk about him so callously. He sat down next to Arthur and fiddled with the buttons on his jeans idly, really not sure what to do.

"Even if he didn't hurt you, sweetheart, he's still a bad influence. Covered in tattoos, always has a hood covering his face. His name is spoken like it's taboo around these parts, it's like they're scared of him," Mrs Emerson put across, sounding shrill in her worry.

"He's an alright guy, Mom. Heart of gold," John added quietly, knowing his mother was far more likely to believe him than Arthur, despite Arthur being the more intelligent brother. Their mother didn't believe in letting Arthur make his own decisions. In her eyes, the young one was automatically the naive one, despite John being the one that was always in trouble.

Mrs Emerson didn't look convinced but Arthur wasn't prepared to listen any longer. He sighed, stood and stalked through to his room, wishing for once in his life his parents would stop being so protective. He knew exactly what he'd gotten himself into and he wasn't backing out now.

* * *

"That's seriously him?" Nathan asked, his nails becoming progressively shorter as he chewed them off, his eyes following the man in the overcoat. Blond haired, blue eyed and a slick Californian accent, this was clearly the man their drama teacher gushed over non-stop.

She hadn't even revealed exactly who the talent scout was coming to watch perform, just that it would be pure improvisation, the only thing supplied a poky little set that consisted of a living room and kitchenette that both looked like they came from the nineteen fifties. It was at times like this when Nathan hated his teacher. He didn't perform brilliantly under pressure.

Arthur grinned at the prospect of improvising for the scout. Acting certainly wasn't his primary career choice but boy would it be exciting. A challenge was everything he loved in life.

Then, the class fell silent as Mrs Craib stood on the stage, smiling proudly. "A warm welcome to our very special friend," she said and her drama students clapped appropriately, Shanty and Russell whooping inappropriately loudly. They were by far the worst students in the class, but they loved to mess around.

"Alright, boys, calm it. Now, I'd like to invite Nathan and Arthur to take centre stage, start us off," she added with a smile before trotting down the steps.

Nathan's eyes went wide with alarm as Shanty and Russell wolf whistled and whooped around him, laughing raucously as lazily got out of his seat, following Arthur up onto the stage. The kids who actually cared about the class looked overall disappointed.

"You're shit!" Shanty cat called before they had the chance to start, causing Nathan and Arthur to snigger.

"Enough of that language!" Mrs Craib snapped.

Nathan nodded at Arthur before sighing and going out the stage 'door'. After a count in, it immediately opened again. He slammed it shut behind him, looking distraught. His feet clobbered off the tile flooring as he stomped towards the living area, where Arthur was scanning a newspaper. The younger of the two boys looked up, his face going pale when he realised Nathan was in a mood. "What's up?" he asked, folding away the tattered newspaper and casting it aside. His brown eyes glinted with worry as Nathan sat down in the arm chair opposite him, brow crumpled with anger.

Nathan sighed witheringly, not even looking at Arthur as he spoke, loud and clear. "There's money missing... three hundred quid."

Arthur went pale, his cheeks taking on a pink tint as he gulped, pretending not to know a thing. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice sticking in his throat as he spoke. His hands were all of a sudden very sweaty and he was blinking rapidly, his cheeks going brighter by the second.

"I mean, you idiot, there's money missing from our account! Jesus, keep up would you?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Don't talk like that to me. You're lucky to have me," he shot back.

"What was that?"

Arthur cleared his throat loudly, as it was getting tighter by the second. "Nothing," he mumbled and pushed himself up off the armchair.

Nathan glared at him. "Was it you? Did you steal from us?" he snapped angrily, blue eyes glinting dangerously.

Arthur didn't reply as he went to the kitchenette, pulling the frozen meal box from the freezer. He shifted uncomfortably under Nathan's furious gaze, feeling like someone was dragging a razor blade down his spine.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Nathan spat angrily, getting out of his chair and grabbing Arthur by the wrist. "You're nothing without me, you get that? So treat me with some damned respect!"

Arthur winced, Nathan's cast iron grip sending real shards of pain up his arm. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It was me, okay? I... I needed new clothes. I know we're tight for money but I couldn't have gone another winter with my old stuff," he apologised hastily, his eyes watering.

"I work so hard just to put food in your greedy little mouth and this is how you repay me?! You're a disgrace, a damned disgrace!" Nathan raged, his grip growing tighter.

Tears spilled onto Arthur's cheeks. "But I love you!" he said weakly, barely daring to speak now.

"You're just pathetic, you know that? I can hardly bare to look at you."

Nathan finally let his wrist go and, with their faces inches apart, he allowed himself one small smile. "Scene," he declared and kissed Arthur lightly. With their hands intertwined, they took a bow for the class, who were on their feet, whooping and cheering for them.

"Bravo! Bravo!" Russell crowed, grinning like a maniac.

"Good show!" Shanty added. "Absolutely spiffing!"

"That's how you do improv, guys!" Mrs Craib called to the other drama students as Nathan gently dabbed at Arthur's cheeks with his sleeve.

"I'm sorry, babe, I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked softly, gently surveying Arthur's wrist.

Arthur smiled at Nathan's worry. "I'm fine, I promise and you were brilliant."

With another bow, Arthur and Nathan returned to their seats, cheeks glowing with pride as their standing ovation continued.

* * *

It was weeks later when Arthur slumped down into a booth in his favourite cafe, pale fingers curled around a steaming cup of instant coffee. He shrugged off his snow covered bomber jacket and brushed the white flakes from his hair, smiling as he looked out the window at the white wonderland. His first taste of the freezing cold the English so often complained about.

He was early by at least ten minutes, a fact that was depressing in itself as it obviously meant he had too much time on his hands. Aside from school and hanging out with his friends, Arthur did little else but read and strum out random rhythms on his battered acoustic guitar. "I need a hobby," he muttered, wiping the rain from his eyes as he took a gulp of coffee, the searing hot liquid scalding his throat. December 23rd, the eve of Christmas eve.

As if on cue, a man sat down opposite him. Blonde hair slicked back, kind blue eyes, maybe mid twenties, dressed like a businessman. Arthur immediately recognised him. The talent scout from Drama class. "Hey," he said with a warm smile. "You wouldn't be Arthur Emerson, would you?"

Arthur smiled, "Yeah," he said kindly, "You're a friend of Mrs Craib's, aren't you? The talent scout. What's your name, sorry? I never caught it."

The man avoided Arthur's gaze "Doesn't really matter," he replied.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Okay... what can I do for you, sir?" he asked hurriedly, wanting to change the subject.

"I... er... well, if you have a spare second, I have a job offer I'd like to discuss with you," he admitted.

Arthur nodded. "Like... a work placement?"

A genuine grin spread across the man's face at that. "Not exactly."

* * *

"Look what I got a hold of," Anthony said excitedly as he drew up beside John, the two finishing their Christmas shopping. She roughly pushed a slip of plastic into John's hands, his eyes glinting as he did so.

John's brow furrowed as he looked down, seeing his brother's face on a near flawless fake ID card, the date of birth one year out. "What's this for?"

"Arthur's seventeen on the 31st, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Anthony grinned maliciously. "Bide your time, John, you'll know what I'm planning in due course," he said.

John stifled a groan and kept walking, glad when Jane came out of a clothing shop to rejoin them. He twined his hand into hers and slipped the fake ID away, dreading what was coming.

_**A/N:**__ I know it's taken me forever! I'm really sorry! Just, the first few weeks back at school have been insane :L Like always, if you could leave me a review that would be absolutely awesome! S xxxx_


	12. Robert Frost

**Robert Frost**  
_You sit there in your heartache,  
Waiting on some beautiful boy to,  
__To save you from your old ways,_  
_You play forgiveness,  
__Watch him now, here he come,_  
The Killers, When You Were Young

"I have come to a conclusion that, judging on your interactions with one particular teenage drug lord, you would have no problem with being in a line of work that wasn't... strictly speaking, legal," the man spoke carefully, his head tilted to one side as if it would allow him a better understanding of the kid before him.

With a furrowed brow and uncomprehending eyes, Arthur replied, "I thought you were a talent scout? Like, a Hollywood hot shot."

The man pulled a face. "That's all acting, Arthur. In my job, it's something I have to be superb at, which I noted you certainly are. Now, returning to my question..."

Arthur thought for a second, sipping his coffee as he did. "Sure thing," he replied. "I've never had much respect for the law and I'd like to hear what this is all about."

The man grinned at that, his features relaxing and the stress lines disappearing from his forehead. "I work in the business of extraction, Arthur. You know what that is, right?" he asked with a smile, tearing open a packet of sugar and adding it to his milky latte.

"Yeah... vaguely. That's the stuff with the dreams, right? Apparently those guys are worth hundreds of thousands... and some governments would pay millions to see them behind bars," Arthur replied, his eyes sparking with wonder. "Or dead."

A smirk crossed the stranger's lips. "What we do is we go into the minds of our victims, into their dreams and steal their thoughts so that they never knew they existed. Then, we sell these secrets on. Highly illegal, highly difficult but highly lucrative and highly fulfilling. Sound like something you would enjoy?" he explained, his eyes glinting as he said the words.

The young boy smiled as he thought. This was a chance for adventure, adrenaline, the thrill of the chase that Nathan so often spoke of. "It sounds amazing," he replied.

The stranger nodded, glad to see he was succeeding with his challenge. "You'd need a lot of training to be a Point Man, it's a hard spot to fill, I've been shot of a permanent one for years. You're a talented young man and I think you could easily be the best in the world with the right mentor," he added, discreetly gesturing to himself. "Point Men generally research targets and set up the whole operation. They always go into the dreams, they're easily the most important person on the team, the backbone if you will. They back up the extractors, people like me, who actually steal the secrets, you understand me?"

Arthur nodded, excited. "I mean, I'll have to think about it but... yeah, it sounds great!" he said with a grin.

"I'll take you on as soon as you'd like, Arthur, but you have to know that we travel. _A lot. _So, if that would be a problem, I'd like to know sooner rather than later," he explained smoothly, pulling a business card from his pocket and putting it down on the table.

That was like the pin in the balloon for Arthur. It made sense. Outlaws were always running. How would he get back into the country? See the people he loved? "I'll think about it," he replied and sipped at his coffee. Just then, the cafe door opened and Nathan stepped in, letting down his hood as he did, flakes of snow falling from his leather jacket. "But, right now, I'm having coffee with my boy," Arthur added, nodding at Nathan's imposing form.

The man glanced over his shoulder, his eyes going wide as they met Nathan's. "I'm going anyway, bro. My wife warned me about your little boyfriend," he said with a chuckle, standing and offering Arthur his hand.

Arthur nodded, shook his hand and said farewell, watching keenly as the man warily sidled around Nathan in the doorway.

As ever, Nathan enjoyed his effect on the stranger, smirking as he walked up to the counter and purchased a coffee.

Arthur suppressed a chuckle at Nathan's amusement and picked up the card on the table. It read 'Dominic Cobb'. When Nathan sat down, he smiled kindly and took a sip of his drink. "Who was that?" he asked politely.

"Some guy called Cobb. Said I'd make the perfect Point Man. You know, as in dream sharing," Arthur replied as Nathan shrugged off his snow covered jacket to reveal a white t-shirt.

"Cool! What did you say? I think we both know this is the kind of job you'd thrive in," Nathan said with a wink.

Arthur chuckled and pushed his boyfriend's damp locks out of his eyes. "I said I'd think about it. It all really depends on pay, training... location," he added meekly. "He said these guys travel... a lot."

"No problem in that," Nathan replied, catching Arthur's fingers and pressing them to his lips.

"There is... I don't know if I could leave here," Arthur replied hesitantly, knowing Nathan wouldn't like what he wanted to tell him.

"Well, there's no guilt in leaving your parents and, by the sound of things, you can't wait to be shot of them, darling. It's not John, is it?"

Arthur scoffed a little and sipped at his coffee, the hot liquid agitating his already twisted stomach. "No! It's just... what about you? Wouldn't you miss me?" Arthur asked, slightly hurt.

Nathan's gaze dropped to the table, his grip on Arthur's hand going slack. "I'd miss you more than you could possibly imagine. I love you. I'd just hate knowing I'm holding you back, Arthur," he admitted with a sad sigh. "I can't get out of what my dad left me with and Lindsey would kill me before I had the chance. This brand of criminals, this work you're being offered, they're paid better than athletes, than Hollywood superstars. These crafty bastards, they're bloody loaded. Don't let me get in the way of you making your millions."

Arthur smiled and pressed Nathan's hand to his lips. "He said that it's a hard place to fill, I bet it'll stay open for awhile. It can wait, Nath, I couldn't stand not having you there," Arthur insisted, meeting Nathan's gaze as he finally looked up.

Nathan sighed, his deep blue eyes smouldering as he took into Arthur's own. They reminded him of melted chocolate, sweet, warm and delicious. "I'm not going to push you into something you don't want to do, babe, I just don't want to hold you back."

"I'm sixteen, Nathan. This is the time for drink, drugs, parties and sex in dark alleyways. Let's save the boring stuff for later!" Arthur assured him with a warm smile.

Nathan cracked into a grin that exposed his charmingly crooked teeth. "Speaking of sex in dark alleyways-"

"Nope!" Arthur replied quickly with a chuckle, causing Nathan's grin to widen.

"Come on, babe! I need a little lovin' too! We don't all have a John to go to when we need a hug!" Nathan pleaded, his blue eyes glittering with mirth.

"It's funny how you think I would actually go within spitting distance of that asshole!"

"Nevertheless-"

"Nathan, not today. I'm sorry, but I've got to go home. The 'rental units get paranoid when their gay younger son is out for too long with his boyfriend that looks like he stepped out of Reservoir Dogs!" Arthur told him with a laugh.

Nathan sniggered. "I was just kidding, darling. You yanks and your goofy phrases!" he said and downed the dregs of his coffee. "'Rental units... anyhoo, I was wondering what I could get you for the big one-seven?"

The younger boy smiled. "Who said you have to get me anything? It's not like I got you something," he pointed out.

Nathan snorted. "Pet, we didn't know each other on my birthday. I was born on April Fools and we met in August!" he replied, an eyebrow going up.

"You were born on the first of April? Figures. Anyway... nothing expensive. I'd be fine with a freaking candy bar," Arthur said.

With a roll of his eyes, Nathan sighed. "Yeah, 'cause that's bloody likely!"

Arthur chortled and finished his own coffee and together they left the cafe. "Can I drive you home, at least?"

Arthur considered this for a second, squeezing Nathan's hand gently. "I don't see how it could hurt."

"Tis the season to be jolly," Lindsey hummed as he plated up the Christmas dinner. Balancing plates on his forearms, he carried them through to the apartment studio, setting them down on the table. "Fa lalalalah, lala la lah!"

"Deck the halls with bells of holly!" Shanty sang, all but rolling off the sofa as he saw the food.

Russell grinned and followed his best friend, merrily adding the fa-lahs as he went.

With a sharp kick to Nathan's bedroom door, Lindsey called, "Grub's up, lovebirds!" before sitting down at the table, pulling his phone from his pocket as he did. It vibrated in his hand and he opened the new message, sighing in depression when he saw the sender.

Nathan's door cracked open and the man himself swaggered out, closely followed by Arthur who had a stupid grin on his face. "You two are looking pretty red tonight!" Shanty cat called. "What were you doing in there? Serenading each other with the magnificent works of Robert Frost?"

Russell snorted, milk spraying everywhere. "Sorry," he murmured, wiping his chin.

Nathan smirked. "Not quite," he replied, sitting opposite his friends. "If that were the case-"

"Before you have the chance to finish what will surely be a disgusting statement, Mum sends her love and she's sorry that she's not here but her lad isn't doing too good," Lindsey cut across, his face pale as he looked at the text.

Nathan sighed. Their mother was the only person Lindsey loved unconditionally. She'd been good to them, a far cry from most of the cocaine addicts of mothers the people that surrounded them had. It was the most childish thing about Lindsey, the absence of his mum sent him into a mood. It was understandable, with terrible fathers that only cared about rolling in more money, the brothers had come to love and respect their mother like no one else. "I'll call her later," Nathan grumbled, his chest falling at the very thought of her.

"Mmm... shit cuts of turkey, supermarket-brand cranberry sauce and frozen chipolatas, my favourite," Shanty joked, causing Lindsey to promptly kick him under the table. Shanty's yelp sent ripples of laugher around as he quickly said, "I was joking, mate!"

Lindsey spared a small grin as he cut into his dinner. "Sorry, kiddo. These are hard times, money's tight around her," he replied, causing Arthur to frown. "Be grateful I'm feeding you at all, you do pretty much live off of me."

"Because my place is a fucking health hazard!" Shanty pointed out with a grin. "Can't we just go party-crashing at Arthur's? Hand reared, free range turkeys, cranberry sauce made from hand-plucked berries of the depths of Devonshire or whatever it is you posh bastards eat."

Arthur swallowed a mouthful and chuckled. "My parents are at the other side of London. Some work function party thing. And John... I think he's at the Legates'."

"That's a little sad, innit? You're at opposite ends of the city on Christmas day?" Russell asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

The youngest of the five grimaced. "My parents always just left John and I with the help at Christmas whilst they went out to parties. And John's being an asshole right now, I can deal without the lot of them," he replied warmly.

But Lindsey's comment on money was still worrying Arthur. If the brothers could hardly afford to put food on their table, then what was Nathan doing buying custom-made electric guitars for Arthur's Christmas?

_**A/N:**__ Well, I hope you're enjoying it so far! It's seriously getting harder and harder for me to upload regularly but I'm doing my best, promise! Sorry, didn't have the timw to proofread, so if there's mistakes, that's why :L If you could take the time to review, that'd be fab! S xxxxxx_


	13. Starting Again

**Starting Again**  
_As sly as a fox, as strong as an ox,_  
_As fast as a hare, as brave as a bear,_  
_As free as a bird, as neat as a word,_  
_As quiet as a mouse, as big as a house,_  
Everything At Once, Lenka

In the months that led up to Christmas it was worth noting that both John and Anthony had turned 19 and left school. John was supposedly job hunting and sending out college applications for the approaching autumn but Arthur knew his brother wouldn't be admitted. His grades were bad, he'd been held back once and, quite frankly, he didn't care. This wasn't a young man who knew what he wanted from life.

And Anthony had been all but absent from Arthur's life, recently.

It wasn't to stay that way for long.

But for now, Arthur's days as a free boy dwindled. No matter how much he laughed with his friends and bickered with his family, he remained preoccupied on Cobb's offer. The idea of thousands, millions even of dollars just about had him weak at the knees. Sure, his parents had money, lots of it. But that wasn't the point. This was Arthur's chance to make something, be someone, be notorious all over the world as the smartest young Point Man in the business.

Only Nathan held him back. His poor, young lover who was trapped in the world of drugs, gangs and crime. The smart aleck who was caught up with all the wrong people. Arthur had never known Nathaniel Eames but he despised him for dragging Nathan into the big game of chance that was his world. Because no amount of skill or knowledge would save Nathan when he had the bad luck of being on the wrong side of the trigger.

Arthur's fingers danced lithely on the neck of his favourite Christmas present, a glimmering red Manson guitar. A smile was at the corners of his mouth as the chords hovered richly in his large bedroom. His old amplifier, looking slightly outdated beside the gorgeous electric guitar, was home to the sheet music he was in the process of playing. It was a little old, but it sounded great, so Arthur didn't care. His fingers were flying on the strings when John walked in, his shoulders slumped, bruise-like shadows under his caramel eyes.

Arthur's jaw went tight, the guitar screeching as his fingers froze.

"Hey," John offered uncomfortably. They didn't speak very regularly these days, just the odd word of 'How was school?' 'How's the job hunt going?' and the answers were never truly listened to.

Arthur narrowed his eyes as he carefully set aside his guitar, flicking the switch on the amplifier. "Hey," he muttered, brushing his locks from his eyes. "What can I do for you?"

John smiled and sat down on the end of Arthur's bed, too close for comfort. Something didn't smell right to Arthur. John was up to something. "Well, I have something for you."

"My birthday's on Saturday... it's Thursday," Arthur pointed out dryly, standing to close the window as the snow began to swirl again.

John laughed hard. Too hard. It wasn't even a joke but John laughed anyway. "Yeah, but I... I wanted to take you out tomorrow night. There's been a lot of bad blood between us these past few months and it's our boys that are doing it to us. Anthony... Nathan. I thought we could just go out, you and I. What better night than the eve of New Year's eve? The eve of your little brother's seventeenth?" he replied with a smile. "I guessed you'd have plans for your actual birthday, with Nathan and your friends. How is he, by the way? I haven't spoken to him since..."

"Since you punched my head in?"

"...Yeah."

"Well... he's fine, not that you give a shit," Arthur shot back, frowning at his older brother.

John grimaced. "Sorry I asked," he said with a sigh. Then, he whipped out the fake ID card and threw it to Arthur. "Happy birthday, kiddo. Now, what do you say?"

The slip of plastic landed neatly in Arthur's hands and he quickly looked it over, taking note of the fake date of birth, 9/06/2022, which was actually John's birthday and claimed that he was already nineteen. "Who'd believe this?" he asked, glancing at his mirror. "I still get IDed going fifteen-rated movies, who would believe I was your twin?"

John smirked, taking in his baby-faced brother's scowl. "Did you shave today?"

"No," Arthur muttered, scratching at his slightly rough chin.

"Good. Don't shave tomorrow, either. That ought to do the trick," John offered, a slight smile on his lips.

Arthur snorted. "That's it? You really think that taking me out to get pissed will fix us? It'll make up for what you did to me? For what you're still doing to us?" he asked in disbelief.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"John, I want to love you, I want us to be real brothers again but that won't happen until that maniac is out of our lives. I know you like Jane, I really do, but as long as Anthony is anywhere near us, he'll use me to get to Nathan," Arthur explained, irritation creeping into his voice.

John shook his head. "I don't want to fight, Arthur," he said quietly. "I can't leave Jane, no more than you could leave Nathan. But I still love you. I'll do everything in my power to protect you, I swear," the lies were like poison on his tongue, going down his throat and squeezing out who he was, everything he stood for. But there was so much at risk. If John didn't do this, he was dead and there would be no one standing in between Arthur and Anthony. Nathan had never been there for his brother, the bastard didn't care about Arthur, didn't love him. All he wanted was a fuckbuddy, someone to keep him warm through the long, cold winter nights. John didn't trust Nathan Eames to keep his little brother, whom he loved so dearly, safe. It had to be him.

And if Arthur had to withstand a few punches to avoid the bullet, so be it. This was the safest option there was.

"Just... please. I want to try and make things right between us," John insisted, holding back the tears with all his might.

Arthur sighed heavily, unable to meet his brother's gaze as he thought. "Alright," he breathed, the words catching in his throat.

John breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks," he replied before getting up. "Nice guitar," he added as he walked out.

John was a dead man walking. If Anthony didn't kill him, Nathan Eames and Lindsey Cooper sure as hell would.

Another nameless woman and another mystery drink for Lindsey Cooper. This life was almost monotonous, these days. Weeks were spent working, weekends were spent drinking and partying. He was bored out of his mind.

The bottom of the glass had appeared and Lindsey was yet to have a good time. It was a good club, the music was how he liked it. But the people who made this life worthwhile were absent tonight. Nathan was working. Shanty was god knows where. Rosie... she was probably with Russell. They were an official thing these days, something that made Lindsey want to gag. Yeah, Rosie was Nathan's age, but it wouldn't matter. Not if she liked him as much as he liked her.

Lindsey knew what that made him. He knew what liking Rosie would get him called. A paedophile. Rosie was seventeen, going on eighteen, hardly legal. He didn't know if that made him... what he thought it did, but it was the name such an age gap would certainly land on his shoulders locally. But he did know that his feelings for Rosie were pure. He didn't want to hurt her. Rosie's pain caused him discomfort and suffering, not pure adrenaline and glee. She was different. She surpassed the laws of his sick, twisted mind.

That didn't matter right now. The blonde that just wouldn't piss off was making googly eyes at him, not in the slightest bit scared of his infamous name. She was an idiot, a complete and utter arsehole to think annoying Lindsey was a good idea.

"I like this," she simpered, her hot-pink lips pouting as she tugged as the sleeve of his leather jacket.

"Piss off," he snapped, yanking his arm out of her reach.

She raised an eyebrow, doing her best to look appealing as she sidled closer in the booth occupied by them and two of Lindsey's lackeys. "Playing hard to get? I like it," she drawled, making a pathetic attempt at smouldering eyes. Her eyes weren't even that nice and that's what Lindsey liked best. Hers were a dull, boring, near opaque slate grey. Nothing like Rosie's electrifying olive greens, streaked with gold and silver and aqua.

"Jeez, I need a life," Lindsey whined as the girl just got more and more clingy. "Look, just fuck off, would you? You're _really _not my type."

The girl grimaced, her face turning ugly as rejection sat in. "What do you mean, I'm not _your type?" _she shrilled, her glass full of bright liquid tilted at a dangerous angle.

"I mean I don't like bimbos," Lindsey replied blankly, a smirk twisting the edges of his lips as his cronies held back sniggers. "You look like you head butted the makeup counter and stuck squirrels to your eyes, your tits are practically popping out of your too short dress. And, darling, don't think for a second that you're fooling me into thinking you're a six and that you've never had your boobs done. Not to mention you've bleached the absolute shit out of your hair and you just want to bang me, maybe take a little money off me."

There was icy silence, only broken by the uncontainable giggles coming from the other side of the table. "Pet, lemme ask you, do I look like I've never seen your type? Get out of my sight, I'm sick of gold-diggers," Lindsey spat.

The girl looked like she'd been slapped, much to Lindsey's cruel amusement. She slinked off, as livid as could be, leaving the lads to collapse about laughing.

"That was harsh," Steven giggled, his numerous empty glasses before him giving off how drunk he was.

"Too bad, I don't care," Lindsey added with a grin before sliding out of the booth. "Can I get you anything?"

"Nah, mate, I think I might just head home to the missus," Nick said, standing up.

Lindsey groaned. "Spoil sport. Ah well, send my love," he replied, clapping Nick on the shoulder in a goodbye before he disappeared out of the club's door. "How 'bout you?"

"Me?" Steven asked. "Triple voddie!" he slurred.

Lindsey snorted. "Beer it is," he amended before stalking off towards the bar. His belly was warm, his head was slightly fuzzy and the night had just gotten a hell of a lot better. Perhaps this life wasn't so bad after all. After a brief jostle through the crowds, Lindsey was at the bar. He tugged lightly at the collar of his v-neck t-shirt, the heat of the club making him slightly uncomfortable as he beckoned to the bartender. "Two beers," he ordered, pulling a note from his pocket and handing it over.

The tender took the money and turned on his heel to get the drinks, leaving Lindsey to have a look around. People drinking, people dancing, people singing. It was a colossal tangle of nameless, faceless bodies that Lindsey had come to expect.

Then, his eyes met a strikingly similar set of chocolate browns. Tanned skin, tall, lean, locks of umber hair. Arthur.

His only company was another boy, slightly taller with masses of brown curls. Lindsey couldn't see his face and didn't recognise him from the back.

So, Arthur was here with a stranger who was passing him a drink. Arthur's hand fluttered to his pocket and the stranger laid a hand on his shoulder, pulling him into a one armed hug and whispering something in his ear, causing the younger of the two to grin and nod. The stranger pressed a hand into the small of his back and gently guided him towards the stairs that led down to storage. No staff protested and Lindsey knew something was up.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialled Nathan, jostling his way to the toilets so that he could hear. He noted the bartender was calling him back, drinks and change in hand but the dial tone was already ringing.

In the quiet of the restrooms, Lindsey leaned against the wall, willing his stupid brother to pick up.

"Hey, mate. Sorry, I was trying to get a hold of Arth-"

"Nathan, I just saw him. With some other guy I didn't recognise. They just went downstairs," Lindsey said hurriedly down the line. "I think he's cheating on you."

_A/N: I know, I know. I'm getting lazy guys. Sorry! Welp, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the song at the start of course. It's the one on the Windows 8 ad and it's been stuck in my head for ever! Anyhoo, I hope to hear from you guys in the reviews (that'd be lovely) and I promise to try and update more regularly! S xxxxx_


	14. Destroy Me

**Destro****y Me**  
_Bar Fight, week night_  
_You don't look right, poor mite, no bite_  
_Wake up, first light_  
_This is what we live and what we see...  
_Lostprophets, Everyday Combat

"Another?"

"You trying to get my boyfriend drunk, Shanty?" Rosie asked with a giggle as the brunet offered his best friend another shot glass. The house party was alright by most measures. There was an extreme lack of one Mr Eames and his boyfriend, putting a damper on their spirits, but otherwise it had been good.

Russell grinned, giving Rosie's hand a squeeze. "Don't worry, hun. I can stomach a lot more," he replied sweetly.

Shanty made gagging noises before knocking back the straight vodka himself. "Jeez, get a room," he joked before taking a long swig from the bottle.

"Nuh uh," Russell insisted, snatching the glass bottle away. "I'm not running you to A 'nd E to get your stomach pumped."

Shanty sniggered. "Lighten up," he said with a snort, the words ever so slightly slurred.

After a half hour of booze, chatter and music, the early hours of the morning fast approaching, the host announced his parents would be back soon and that he was closing up shop.

"Good thing too," Rosie added. "My mum's outside."

"Kay, darling. See ya," Russell said, kissing her gently.

Shanty gulped hard and gave a wave of his hand, glass of water tipping precariously in his hand. She ignored him though, smiling and waving shyly at Russell before leaving. Shanty had liked her before. She was one of the few ex girlfriends Nathan was on good terms with and she'd been a sweetheart. But Russell was changing his view of the polite girl with a heart of gold. Russell twisted everything for the younger boy, made everything bad.

"C'mon, mate, we should head home," the blond said, producing his phone. "Got a cab-"

That was when someone fell into Russell, their sticky cocktail splashing all over him and soaking his grey t-shirt. He grunted and shoved the tottering arsehole away, not caring that it was a particularly young, tipsy teen. A stream of light giggles burst out of Shanty's lips as he shook his head at his friend. "You poor sod," he murmured with a grin, tipping more water into his mouth.

With a groan, Russell plucked Shanty's glass from his hand and set it down, shoving his best friend towards the door. They exited the flat and headed for the lift without another word, Russell too annoyed and Shanty too tipsy to say much more. The elevator ride down ten floors was eerily quiet, Russell pulling at his sticky t-shirt in frustration. He stank of tequila, the cocktail so sweet it was threatening to make him gag.

Shanty, however, loved the scent, sidling closer to get a better whiff of the coconut and pineapple scents radiating from Russell's body. He wouldn't mind one right now. He'd lick it off-

_No, Shanty _he berated himself mentally. _You go through enough crap thanks to him without fantasising about that._

Shanty's preferred method of self torture. Fantasising about Russell. Dreaming of him kissing him, touching him, grinding against him. Shirtless Russell, the muscular plates of his chest he'd observed from the PE changing rooms gleaming with cold sweat as Shanty pleasured him, made him feel good.

"Fucking hell, why do I do this to myself?" Shanty asked himself sharply, not realising he'd said it out loud until Russell cast him a confused look.

"What, mate?" he asked, blue eyes shadowed with concern.

A sigh escaped the brunet's lips as he averted his gaze. "Nothin'. Beer talking," he promised, wiping away clammy sweat from his forehead. His mind was surprisingly clear and alert through his drunken haze. Too many nights spent completely pissed for it to cloud his mind for long.

"Why do you do what to yourself?"

Shanty's teeth grinded together as he cursed Russell's persistence, "I'm drunk," he pointed out. "Drunk people say weird stuff. Trust me, I've declared my love for inanimate objects enough times to know that."

A small chuckle escaped the blond boy's lips at the memory of Shanty and the old police box at Earl's Court. _"'Doctor! Doctor! I know you're in there!'" _he quoted in a sing song voice, looping his arm around his best friend's shoulders and squeezing him hard.

The younger man snorted. "Thanks for the reminder," he replied with a weary sigh as the elevator doors slid open. They slowly made their way across the foyer, coming out onto a vaguely busy street. The cool of the sub-zero temperatures of late December was a comfort after two hours in a stifling flat where the ice cubes melted in two minutes flat. Russell had no intention to call a cab just yet, enjoying the cool air on his red cheeks too much. He pulled idly at his t-shirt, gagging at the retched smell as he did so. "Bloody tequila," he muttered angrily.

"Stop your moaning," Shanty told him sharply. "C'mon, back you go," he commanded, making Russell shuffle back into a dark alley. "Swapsies."

Russell quirked his eyebrow but decided the stench of the cocktail was too strong, taking the hemline of his t-shirt in his fingertips and pulling up, the t-shirt falling to the ground in seconds.

It was like a punch in the gut for Shanty. He forced himself to look away, the flex and strain of his best mate's muscular chest being too much for him to take without crumbling to pieces. He discarded his jumper before casting Russell a wary glance. "Privacy?" he asked, taking his t-shirt's hem in his hands.

The blond snorted. "What the hell? I'm freezing in minus two degrees, I've seen you half naked in PE and you ask for privacy?" he stuttered incredulously, teeth chattering. He took Shanty's t-shirt in his own hands and yanked up, ignoring the cries of embarrassment.

"See?" he snapped, grey t-shirt in his hands, Shanty's chest exposed. Shivers went down the brunet's spine and whimpers escaped his lips as he reached for his hoody, groaning in irritation when Russell plucked it from the ground and held it right out of his reach.

"Russ," he growled, reaching behind his friend's back for it, having to gulp hard to keep himself calm when the gap between them continued to shrink.

"Ah ah," Russell reprimanded, just holding it further away.

"I hate you."

"Come now, sweetie," the blond remarked with a grin, failing to see just the exact effect his words had on his friend. "You know that's a lie."

A sigh escaped Shanty's lips, vodka tainted breath ticking Russell's nostrils. "Of course I don't, mate. I could never hate you."

Russell smiled at that and suddenly felt the urge to word what he'd been thinking about for months. His life had gotten so good recently and he so desperately wanted to make sure everyone of his loved ones knew what they meant to him. "I love you, Shants. I'd do anything to protect you, you know that, right?"

Shanty faltered, his heart stuttered and his breath following suit as that sunk in. "I know. I'd lay down my life for you, Russell. I love you," he whispered and, before he could give his actions a second thought, closed the gap between their lips, his lust and passion overcoming his every sane thought.

* * *

"Fucking hell," Nathan spat as he hung up on Lindsey.

"Everything alright, boss?" one of the three others asked concernedly.

"Yeah, mate. I just need to get out of here. How long's this twat gonna take?" Nathan said sourly, glaring down the cold alleyway as his breath misted before his eyes. Their customer was nearly ten minutes late. Drug dealings were not the type of thing you showed up late for. The youngest of the four men was worried, worried he'd been sold out, just waiting for the sirens to start. He was in no mood for a chase tonight, especially not after that phone call.

"Nathan, the youngest of us is twice your age. I think we can handle this one on our own. You can go if you like."

A thankful smile spread over his lips at this. "Cheers, boys. Sorry, I just need to see Lindsey," he apologised hurriedly before nodding in goodbye and running for his car. He stopped at the red sports car and pulled out his phone once more, dialling Russell without a second thought. Hopefully his backup of choice would be relatively sober tonight.

"Hey, Russ?"

"Nathan, hey."

"Can you meet me at Jo's?"

"The dive?"

"Yeah. And bring Shanty."

"Shanty's pretty... out of it..."

Nathan groaned, his mind quickly reeling through other names. Then it occurred to him that Shanty was almost always drunk, it wouldn't really matter. "Doesn't matter, take him anyway."

"Okay, Nathan... what's up?"

"I... er... it's Arthur. There's something wrong."

* * *

For a second, Russell was too stunned to comprehend what was happening. All he knew was Shanty and the warmth of his arms and the scent of his cologne and the taste of the vodka that lingered in his mouth. And even though this had not been his intention and that it was so wrong and he was betraying his parents, his girlfriends and, most importantly, his god, he couldn't tear himself away.

"Russ," Shanty moaned against his lips.

"Shanty," Russell said with much less pleasure. "Please."

"It's okay, baby. I'll make you feel good. I know what to do."

"Shanty... please. No. I can't."

"Shh," the brunet insisted, running his hands through his friend's hair and bringing their lips back together.

"Shanty, no," Russell insisted, hands snaking to the other's hips. The other boy took this as a good sign and continued, his hands sliding downwards, to Russell's backside. "No. NO."

With a rough shove, Shanty reeled backwards, slamming into the alleyway wall. His head cracked off the stone with a sickening crack and he whimpered, crumpling to the ground. "What the hell?"

"I said no, you stupid shit!" Russell snapped angrily, yanking the cocktail-soaked t-shirt on the ground back on.

"Take mine-"

"I don't want anything from you! Who the hell do you think you are?! I have a girlfriend. I'm a Christian. I can't be gay. Why do you think I'd want that? _Want you?" _the blond spat, regretting the words as soon as he saw Shanty's destroyed expression. "Oh, Christ. I didn't mean that."

"No, I think you did!"

"I-" Russell stammered, cut short when his phone rang in his pocket. He fished it out, grateful to be saved from Shanty. "Nathan," he breathed in relief, stepping out onto the street and pressing the device to his ear.

"Nathan, hey." _I never thought I'd be so happy to hear your voice._

Shanty lay against the alleyway wall, head cradled in his hands. _How could I be so stupid? _He thought angrily. _I'm such an asshole._

"Get up. Nathan needs us," Russell called coldly a few moments later.

The younger boy groaned and shoved himself to his feet.

_Once again, I've totally fucked everything up. Well done, Shanty._

_**A/N:** I know, I'm so sorry! The run-up to Christmas has been hellish for me and I've been ill and it's just... ugh! If this seems rushed, that's why. I'm going to try to update every week solidly from now on. Fair warning, the next chapter will be Relapse-centred, this time from Eames' and Bridie's points of view. I've updated the cast list for my OCs, by the way. See it below. I really hoped you enjoyed reading and if you could leave a review, that'd be fab, I'm open to constructive criticism! S xxxxx_

_Bridie Grant - Karen Gillan  
Lindsey Cooper - Arthur Darvill  
John Emerson - Heath Ledger  
Jane Legates - Anne Hathaway  
Anthony Legates - Sam Claflin  
Shanty - Jensen Ackles  
Russell - Alex Pettyfer_


	15. Showing Cracks

**Showing Cracks**  
_And they make me  
Make me dream your dreams  
And they make me  
Make me scream your screams  
_Muse, 'Showbiz'

"Took your fucking time!" Nathan snapped from the front of Jo's as Shanty and Russell got out of the latter's car.

"Traffic."

They were standing unnaturally far apart, their attitude towards each other icy and unsettling. "What's up?" Nathan asked, raising an eyebrow.

There was a second of silence in which Shanty huffed and Russell puffed, only causing Nathan's irritation to grow. "Doesn't matter," the blond insisted. "Come on, thought Arthur needed help? What's going on?"

"Well, Lindsey saw him with someone he didn't recognise. And, well, I'm scared. After everything the CRB have done, I feel like I can't leave him unprotected in public. I think he's walking into a trap," Nathan explained wearily to his friends.

"You don't think-"

"Don't you even suggest that," Nathan spat as Shanty. "I know Arthur. He wouldn't do that to me."

Shanty sighed, his eyes rolling backwards. "Okay. Whatever."

Nathan groaned and paced towards the bouncer at the front of the club. The man in a black suit snorted, "ID, please, little boy."

The young man gulped back his irritation and produced his ID, annoyed to find it wasn't even the one that claimed him to be eighteen. Super. He would either be losing hundreds of pounds or be risking the police tonight. "I'm seventeen," he replied honestly.

"Well, keep walking, kid."

"I need to get in."

"Too fucking bad."

"I don't think you understand. My boyfriend's in danger."

"Oh, so you're a fairy, too? Definitely not getting in."

Nathan blinked at that, taking a step back so as to avoid punching the man in the face. He breathed out heavily, hand pulling up his bomber jacket to take the hilt of the handgun that was concealed there. "I have a funny feeling that my age and sexuality won't make a difference to you when there's a bullet in your head, matey. Is turning me away really worth your life?"

"As if you'd shoot me."

"My name is Eames. Nathan Eames. Perhaps you've heard of me? I'm... er... quite the celebrity around these parts," he replied evenly, thumb cocking the gun.

The bouncer went pale. "Eames, you say?"

"Yeah."

With his dignity shattered, the bouncer stepped to the side and allowed Nathan, Shanty and Russell in, the latter two throwing him disgusted looks. "Fucking homophobes," Shanty spat, making sure Russell caught the glare he sent his way too. The blond shrunk back, his cheeks going pink as they came into the crowded bar.

* * *

"What am I looking for?" Arthur asked, pushing a hand through his hair as he glanced around in the dim storage room.

"Er, we have to wait for awhile. I've invited someone along, someone who I think you'll really want to see," John admitted with a sigh, going to sit at the back of the room. He perched himself on top of a dusty old crate and patted the spot beside him.

"You're not going to tell me who this is?" Arthur asked worriedly, sitting down beside him.

"Chin up, bro. It's a _nice _surprise," John lied through his teeth, smiling kindly.

This put Arthur at ease and he smiled back, deciding he was okay with waiting for a few moments. Moments turned to minutes and after ten of them, Arthur looked to his brother, who, to his surprise, was stony eyed with a clenched jaw. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked concernedly.

John didn't answer, he just looked to the door as it opened with a creek, a figure stepping through before closing it.

"It's been too long, Mr Emerson," came an all too familiar drawl. The voice Arthur had nightmares over. He stepped forward, drawing unbearably close to the Emerson brothers. A heavy hand landed on Arthur's shoulder and he flinched, trying to get free. But then the pressure began and he felt himself whimpering under his attacker's strength. "How's our little... mutual friend? Still messing up your life?"

"Just let me go, Anthony. Nobody has to get hurt."

The older guy laughed hollowly, not a trace of humour in his tone. "That's not gonna happen, kiddo. Sometimes I feel sorry for doing this to you... to your brother. But then I remember everyone involved with scum like Eames has to die." Anthony let the light catch his face, sighing heavily. His eyes were underlined with dark shadows, his skin pale and pasty. Arthur wondered what he'd been doing with himself in recent months, why he looked so bad.

"I really don't understand," Arthur drawled, his nerve withstanding. "Why do you hate him so much? What's he ever done to you? Sexuality isn't a choice, Legates. He didn't get to choose who he was."

"You think this is what it's all about?" Anthony scoffed, glaring down at him. "Even I wouldn't go so far out of my way for a bit of gay-bashing," he spat. His hands curled in on themselves, knuckles cracking and tendons on his arms standing as he fought hard to control his fists.

"What-"

"I'm sick of _talking, _Emerson," the man whined. "I mean, that's all I've been doing recently and it just _doesn't help."_ Without warning, he struck Arthur hard in the stomach, smirking as the kid cried out and curled in on himself. John retreated and pressed his back into the wall, unable to watch. "I just bay for blood. To draw blood and to have it drawn, that's the only type of communication I really _understand _anymore. And that sick bastard that you so love... he's the reason I'm like this."

Arthur wheezed, the blinding pain clouding his thoughts. He backed into the wall, hoping, praying that the door would open and he could run. Not that Anthony would ever give him that opportunity. But the guy's words resonated around his cloudy mind. "He's a good guy. You're the crazy one."

There was a snort of laughter and Anthony punched him again, watching him fall to the ground. "Arthur, your hands are free. Hit me back. I'm not here to beat you up, I'm here to get a reaction, to tell you the truth. Your sweet brother thinks I'm hell-bent on proving some dumb point that gays are _evil, _or some shit like that. That's not true. That's nowhere near the truth. I want you to know what's going on, Arthur. I want you to know why I am the way I am."

He grunted as Arthur's foot flew out and kicked him in the groin, his knees buckling as white hot pain coursed through him. "See, that's what I'm talking about. Doesn't it make you feel better, Arthur? Doesn't letting it out help? I'm not a sadist, Arthur. I'm not like Lindsey. I don't derive pleasure from hearing people scream, from seeing them bleed, that's just pent up aggression. I'm just not as strong as my sister. When I bottle things up, I explode. I lash out on people I love, people who care about me... that's why I don't do it. This is healthy for me, having the odd punch up."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Arthur snapped, getting to his feet and sending a glare at John. "I don't understand."

"I don't expect you to, Arthur," Anthony replied with a sad smile. "Doesn't mean I'm not disappointed in Eames," he added. "I'm sorry about this, by the way. I just really need a punch bag right now. And you will be drawing the perfect one here right now. In fact, I'd give it just a few more minutes." A sharp smack to his face and Arthur reeled backwards, whimpering as he clutched the sore spot, warm, metallic blood filling his mouth.

"You think he's stupid enough to show on his own?" he spat venomously, blood dripping from his chin.

"Nah, I don't really care. I need a bit of a challenge right now, anyway... is that footsteps I hear?"

Just then, the door banged open. Anthony's head whipped around and Arthur took his opportunity, swinging hard at the distracted lunatic. The collision came and Anthony cried out in agony, causing Lindsey to grin as he walked through the door. He was quickly followed by Nathan, Russell and Shanty.

"Good on you, mate," Shanty said with a grin as Anthony staggered back, spitting blood to the floor.

Russell went to John immediately and roughly pulled him towards the door, kneeing him in the gut in an attempt to get co-operation. John struggled, "No!" he cried. "I'm staying here!"

Then Lindsey raised a hand to Russell. "He isn't getting off so easy, blondie. Throw him in the corner. I'm gonna enjoy this," he spat as he cracked his knuckles.

The blond obeyed Lindsey's orders without hesitation, knowing better than to mess around with Cooper. It wasn't until Nathan stepped forward and said "Arthur, come on," that Arthur became truly aware of what was going on.

"I'm not a dog," Arthur muttered, wiping blood from his chin.

Nathan frowned. "Never said you were. Just... please. We should leave."

The youngest boy in the room didn't know where this anger was coming from. Maybe it was Anthony, maybe it was his brother. Then it dawned on him. "Why the fuck are you coming to my rescue? Like some shining knight? I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, definitely coping," Russell snapped, nodding at the blood on the ground.

"Shut your trap," Shanty quipped at his best friend. "You haven't got any business judging people, Father Perfection."

A small giggle issued from Anthony as he dumbly wiped at his mouth. "It's odd how even the best of friends lie and betray each other, isn't it, Arthur?" he asked, to which Nathan snarled.

"What were you talking about earlier?" Arthur insisted quietly, looking upon his attacker's face with venom and hate.

"You really don't know?" he asked, to which the younger boy shook his head. "Eamesy... I am _so_ disappointed. You've got one too many skeletons in the closet."

"Arthur. Please. Let's go."

"Nah, I want to hear what he has to say."

Russell stepped forwards, laying a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "C'mon, mate. Story best saved for a rainy day, if you ask me."

Arthur flinched away. "I'm not a kid. In case you didn't realise, I'm in this shit _neck-deep."_

"Why don't you listen to him, Eames?" Anthony drawled evily.

"He has a right to know." Shanty backed him up.

"Shanty, shut the hell up," Nathan spat. "Please, Arthur. Let's just go. We can talk about this later."

Arthur was about to resist when he saw Lindsey's shoulders roll, his features contorted with irritation and impatience. "Fine! C'mon, John, let's go."

Lindsey laughed. "He's staying, bucko. Just get walking."

Arthur clenched his jaw, feeling powerless against everyone else. He shook his head, eyes stinging as he looked to his brother. John's eyes were pleading. "Just go," he mouthed.

Then, there was the rumble of feet on the stairs and Anthony smirked. "Backup's here," he said with an inhumane giggle as five or more thugs appeared out of nowhere.

"Arthur!" Nathan cried, grabbing the young boy by the scruff of the neck and pulling him out of the room.

And then there wasn't time to cry out for John or to shove Nathan out of the way and go back to help. A slip of cloth covered his mouth and within two struggling breaths, Arthur was out cold.

**_A/N: _**_I delivered for once! I know I lied about it being Relapse-era, sorry. But I like this one. Things were a bit too sunny in Arthur's world for my liking. Anyhoo, if you could leave a review, that'd be fab! Theories and fangirling are welcome 3 S xxxxx_


	16. Lollipops and Candy Canes

_**A/N: **I thought it may be wise to put some trigger warnings here because, to be blatantly honest, my head is not in a good place and neither is Arthurs. So, yah  
**TW: Depression**_

**Lollipops and Candy Canes**_He's the one who likes all our pretty songs,  
__And he likes to sing along and he likes to shoot his gun,  
But he knows not what it means,  
Knows not what it means and I say_  
In Bloom, Nirvana

It wasn't until there was sun shining on his flickering eyes that Arthur finally awoke, his head thick and woozy. For awhile, all he was aware of was the dust motes swirling in the sunlight streaming through the gap in his curtains. Then the pain began.

He gently ran his fingers over his face, meeting bumps and bruises as he went. His bottom lip was badly swollen, as was his jaw and there was a jagged wound above his eyebrow. His stomach ached and, upon pulling aside his t-shirt, he found splatters of black bruising, spanning from the top of his right hipbone to the bottom of his ribcage. "Jesus Christ," he murmured, his speech badly impaired by his lip.

The cloud of Arthur's mind was only just beginning to lift when vivid flashbacks of the night before started to return. It hadn't actually hurt this bad, Anthony's beating, but boy did it hurt now. With a snap, Arthur thought to John. "Dammit," he spat, remembering how he'd left that boy in a room with Lindsey and Russell and Shanty.

With a sigh, Arthur pulled his t-shirt back down, and gently padded across the hall, hoping he wouldn't awake his parents. His brother's bedroom door opened with a slight creek and he took a deep breath before peering round, holding it in his lungs.

John looked twice as bad as him. His skin was bloodied and bruised, especially his face. Poor John looked like he'd been dragged to hell and back, various parts of his body so swollen it was hard to tell where it stopped.

Hot pain seared through the younger brother's head as he struggled to remember what happened. He was talking to Anthony about... something. Whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant. Then, the others were there. He remembered Nathan talking to him, the anger he felt for some unfathomable reason at his tone, like he was getting orders from a drill sergeant.

But what were they talking about? Anthony, he'd said something that had riled Arthur so badly that he'd been snapping at Nathan like a feral dog. And something was wrong between Shanty and Russell, the blonde firmly with Nathan, his best friend wavering and... had he supported Arthur at some point?

Then, there had been cloth covering his mouth and nose and after a few stifled breaths, he was out.

Anger flared within him as he quietly shut John's door and crept back to his room, doing his best to close his door quietly with his shaking hands. No sooner was he safe from the outside world had he found his phone and dialled Nathan, struggling not to kick something in the soul-shaking anger he felt.

"Hello?" came Nathan's croaky voice on the other line, clearly wary of Arthur.

"You drugged me," Arthur spat, his fury rising like a fire wall. "You chloroformed me, you little shit."

"Woah, Arthur, calm down. I did what was be-"

"You did what was best, did you?! I wasn't following your orders so you knock me out cold. You know who does that, Nathan? Criminals. Murderers. Rapists."

Nathan snorted, not a trace of humour to be found in his laugh. "Beats getting your head kicked in," he answered, his voice calm and platonic.

"You don't think I can't fight my own battles?"

"Not against those arseholes, no!"

"Yeah, well, it's fucking embarrassing, being the stupid damsel in distress all the time. Maybe I can fight off those dicks, but I'll never know until I try, will I?"

An icy silence spread between them, only broken by static. Then, Nathan sighed. "I'm sorry, Arthur, I panicked. I just didn't want you to get hurt any more. Can we just talk about this? Face to face?"

Arthur exhaled heavily, the woozy veil the chloroform had left on his mind finally subsiding. "I guess. Whereabouts?"

"Mine?"

There was a snort disguised as a cough from the younger boy as he raked his fingers through his hair. "Yeah. Alright. Don't think for a fucking second you're getting off easily, though. I'll text you when I'm free."

"Okay. And, Arthur?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy Birthday."

Arthur sighed. "I wouldn't describe it as happy but yeah, Happy Birthday to me. Time to face the parents."

"Good luck."

"Thanks, I'll need it."

"I'm alright, by the way. Thanks for your concern."

"I'd have killed you if you were anything but alright, you stupid bastard."

* * *

Not long after Arthur hung up did he hear padding feet through the hallway as his parents went through to the kitchen. There was the sound of the cooker going and bacon sizzling, the smell meeting his nose not long after. "Birthday breakfast. Won't this be a pleasant one?" he said aloud with a dry chuckle, looking at his face in the mirror. He wiped away all traces of dried blood and was pleased to see that did a little to help.

It was odd to think his parents didn't know anything. Totally in the dark about half of Arthur's life. They'd met Nathan very few times, they knew nothing of what he did. They were completely in the dark.

If you've ever had to show your battered face in front of your parents and watch them react, you'll know what was going through Arthur's mind as he padded through the halls of his home that morning. You're beyond worried. You know what's coming. Fuss. Anger. Tears. Disappointment. Fury. And then punishment. Normally in that order, too. Your parents' faces are going to go every colour in the paint store when they see you. And it's nothing short of tedious.

Then there's the brother that you have to explain. Out cold and exhausted from being beaten up (or head injuries, at that point you're really not sure) and that feeling in the pit of your stomach, like the thing was twisting in on itself and threatening to tear. That guilt that your folks resonate, in that one thought. _Why didn't I protect him?_

And in that moment, you want to just not exist.

Because the explanations and the punishments and the implications of your own stupidity just aren't worth it.

In case you've never done something like that, that's what Arthur feels, long fingers curling round the door handle that would take him into the kitchen.

"Happy birthday to me," he muttered. _I hate myself. I just deserve death. I'm an ass._

The door cracked open, one certain self-hating seventeen year old's breath rattling in his chest and he went in, head bent over, leaning against the radiator.

The chorus of Happy Birthday began from Mr Emerson, who was scrambling eggs on the hob at the opposite side of the room and Mrs Emerson, who was laying out a stack of cards and a small pile of presents. And, as the verse tapered out, Mrs Emerson looked up from her work and raised an eyebrow at her son's crooked form. She stepped around the kitchen table and went Arthur, who was still leaning against the radiator by the door, the warmth at the base of his spine the only comfort as his stomach twisted.

A cold finger hooked under his chin and his head had to be pulled up to meet his mother's eye. With a clenched jaw and an honest, unflinching gaze, he waited.

There were the sounds of shattering glass and shocked gasps as his mother all but leapt back. Eyes went red, fingers fluttered to cover her mouth. Water was pooling around Arthur's feet, soaking through his socks. He knelt and started to pick up the glass, not sure what to do.

When there was a handful of glass in his palm, he carefully handed it into the bin. "You okay?" he asked.

"Am I okay? Am _I _okay?" Mrs Emerson repeated, incredulous. "You've been beaten to a pulp and you're asking if _I'm _okay?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I know I'm fine. Just wanted to check you weren't gonna pull a Snow White on us," he said, rather dryly.

His father, who'd been silent till this point, said "Don't you dare cheek your mother, boy."

Arthur sighed. "Guys, I'm fine. John and I were out last night, we drank a little too much, got into a bar fight over something stupid. No biggie."

"Your face is purple," Mr Emerson all but spat.

"And? I'm fine, god's sake."

"Arthur."

"Yes?"

"How bad is John?"

Bamn. Million dollar question. How to answer to invoke the least panic was the hard part. "Not bad."

Mr Emerson turned off the hob and made for John's bedroom. Woops, you blew the million dollar question. "Omigod, Dad. He's _fine."_

"How did this happen?" Mrs Emerson enquired, fetching an ice pack from the freezer.

Arthur groaned as she pressed the cool plastic to his cheek and made him hold it there. "I don't really remember. It was something really stupid, like John was flirting with this waitress that this other wasted dude thought he had the rights to. Progressed from there, I swear."

"Don't lie to me, Arthur," Mrs Emerson muttered angrily.

_"I'm not lying."_

And thus began the worst birthday Arthur Emerson ever had.

* * *

After a scream-fest, a permanent grounding _(Until college, the both of you! _How cliché) and mumbled thank-yous for a cheque written for far too much than was normal, Arthur was holed up in his bedroom, head cradled in his hands. His eyes were darting between a card and his mobile and he knew Nathan was still waiting.

All consumed by anger and weariness, Arthur picked up his phone. He knew what he was doing, clear as day, but it had taken a beating and a serious fall-out to get him here. That sucked. A lot.

He dialled the right number and lifted the phone to his ear, sighing as it dialled.

"Hey, Cobb. It's Arthur Emerson. The actor kid, yeah."

* * *

In the space of twenty four hours, things had gone from good to shit to worse. And that was alright. He noticed the unusual lack of liquor in the kitchen's glass cabinet that his parents were probably busy drinking themselves to hell's gates in the living room. With good reason, he guessed. He'd also caught John sneaking out as he was doing the exact same thing. John was, albeit, much more distressed. Apparently he'd just gotten a weird text from Jane, asking to meet him in a very shady part of town.

John was bitter. About what had happened. About the state of his god damned face. About everything. He'd apologised hastily for what had happened, but he didn't seem to mean it. Both brothers were sick and tired of playing games. And whilst things were looking up for Arthur, a whole new career before him, things were flat lining for John.

He was bitter because soon he'd be left behind. By everyone he loved. Because Arthur and Jane were prodigies, both on their ways to becoming geniuses. And he had nothing.

"Please be careful, John. I don't like that spot," Arthur said, referring to Jane's preferred meeting point.

John's smile was half-hearted, meaningless. "No need to pretend you care."

"What?"

"Let's face it, Arthur. I don't think there's much left between us."

There had been a brief argument in hushed voices, the draughty porch making their voices echo eerily. But when it ended, Arthur was pretty sure he'd never felt so low in his entire life.

"You're my brother, man. We'll always get through stuff, you and me. You said we'd always be smooth sailing, lollipops and candy canes. You've always said that."

John sighed. "Then we grew up."

"Dude-"

"Look, just forget it, okay? We're not kids anymore, things ain't ever going to be the same. Grow up."

Then he was gone.

And Arthur was currently where he wanted to be. Nathan's apartment. Lindsay was god knows where and they were together, chill as could be. There had been no discussion, Arthur was beyond demanding answers tonight. He'd just submitted. The day was too much. Nathan had kissed every bruise on his body and it had been nice, to be appreciated, after everything. He kept murmuring that Arthur was so bold, so strong. That he was seventeen. That he loved him.

And Arthur had been working up the courage to say it. To say that he was leaving school to be a Point Man. But he couldn't stop thinking about John, about his parents, about all the things that were wrong here. How he was so submissive in this relationship. How there was a gaping hole in his memory from last night and how he wanted to know what had infuriated him. And he wanted so badly to think that what they had was right. Thing was, he just didn't know anymore. This thing, it wasn't even a real relationship, was beyond on unhealthy, bordering on dangerous.

But then his phone had rung.

And it was Jane.

It seemed that things were only going to get worse.

_**A/N: **Hey... I uploaded for once?! So yeah I'm not doing brilliant but that's not very important. I seriously have so much plot for these stories but I don't know if my heart's in it, or even in Inception and this ship anymore. So I don't know what's happening. If I do end it all, answers are available to anyone who asks. And I'm sure I'll go on to do Supernatural, Les Mis, Muse stuff. If I do decide to end it though, I'll post the next chapter, 'cause it's a biggun. S xxxxxxx_


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